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Heart of Myrrha Lake; 


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Knto tlje aiflijt of ©atSoIicfts. 


V 

MINNIE MARY LEE. 

7 




y/lPl. l/J- \ 




New York: 

THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
No. 9 Warren Street. 


1872 


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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C. 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake; 

OR, 

INTO THE LIGHT OF CATHOLICITY. 


MYRRHA lake's LETTER TO STELLA VAUGHAN. 

OU are much surprised, my friend, at the 
step I am about to take. You express 
much wonder that I, born and bred 
among the mountains of New Hampshire, in an 
atmosphere essentially Puritan, should ever have 
come to entertain my present views. You cannot 
understand how it has happened that one so “ sen- 
sible,” so “intelligent,” educated at Science Hill, 
should have unhappily submitted to the degradation 
of counting beads and repeating Ave Marias. Be- 
cause a person ' physically blind sees neither light, 
form, nor color, shall he, therefore, insist that there 
is no glory of the sun, no gracefulness of the flower ? 
that there is no beauty in the rainbow, no comeli- 
ness in nature ? You will say. What do you mean ? 
for I am not blind, either physically or mentally. 

Again, then : if the blind man, through the skill 



8 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


of the physician, has recovered his sight, will he not 
cry aloud for joy in the new light which is flooding 
everything with beauty ? Shall his brother, still 
blind, having made use of no remedy, disdainfully 
address him : “ Cease your exultation. The world 
will laugh at your folly ; for does it not know that 
you were born blind ? You labor under a delusion 
— you have gone mad. Were we not alike ? How, 
then, does it happen that you can see while I see 
not, except that I perceive the foolishness of your 
whim ” ? Shall the new joy of the newly-awakened 
be hushed by this reproach ? It is saddened only 
by the thought that, whereas his brother might see, 
yet he will not. 

I could not, as you desire, sit down and tell you 
everything in an hour, or two hours, or three. 

There are many, aside from persons of distinction, 
who keep a diary. For instance, you do and I do. 
While you have been jotting down notes of foreign 
travel, soliloquizing over grandeurs, glories, and 
ruins of nature and art, I have been inditing the 
simple events of a quiet home, giving record to the 
natural reflections, dreams, and speculations of a 
country young lady of eighteen. 

About midway of my Volume IV. commences a 
narration of those circumstances which led to the 
great, happy change of my life. Simple and natu- 
ral though they appear, I love to trace in them the 
“ hidden ways of God,” who, by his own peculiar 
grace and favor, has called me from comparative 
‘‘ darkness into his marvellous light.” 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity, 


From this diary I shall make for you such quo- 
tations as bear upon the subject of my conversion. 
There will be necessarily repetitions, reiterated 
weaknesses ; in short, an exhibition of the doubts and 
struggles of a soul being attracted, almost against 
its will, into realms to itself unknown. Portions of 
these I shall abridge or omit. 

You have known of my long engagement to 
Selwyn Everett. Of course, the leaves of my diary 
are covered thickly with his name. I rarely intro- 
duced it, however, even with the rudiments of the 
new religion. I kept him separate and apart, I 
know not why. Therefore, you will scarcely find 
mention of him until he comes really upon the 
scene ; the sacrifice, like the son of the patriarch of 
old — the test of the soul — whether or not its faith 
were perfect unto God. AVere you a Catholic, I 
might beg your leniency. My comprehension of 
the new doctrines was often imperfect, my reason- 
ing impulsive perhaps, but in all, my most earnest 
desire was to find the truth. 

As to the kind priest who instructed us at the 
last, I would be doing him an injustice did I pro- 
fess to give in writing his exact words. I naturally 
sought to represent his ideas : to reproduce his 
words would have been impossible. It is, then, for 
you rightly to infer that words, if not ideas, suffer 
from my short-hand. 

Stella, friend of my girlhood, while you read these 
fragments of my diary, should you feel disposed still 
to pity my delusion, recall for me your former regard. 


10 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

You had confidence in my judgment, in my sinceri- 
ty. You did not regard me as eccentric nor dis- 
posed to hallucinations of any kind. Do not, then, 
believe me changed in this respect, but pause and 
question if there be not indeed God’s unfailing 
truth in this new faith which I have taken joyfully 
to my soul. I reap no worldly advantage; the 
pleasures of the world have no' longer for me a 
charm. It has broken the one dream of my life, 
it has plucked out my right eye, it has cut off my 
right hand, yet thanks be to God wdro hath given 
me the victory ! 

If still disposed to marvel and to pity, recall the 
words of our Divine Master : “Yet one thing thou 
lackest : sell all that thou hast and give to the 
poor, and take up thy cross, and follow me.” 
“ And how dost thou seek another way than this 
royal way, which is the way of the holy cross ?” 
Who is it that thus calls us, thus takes us captive, 
thus bids us kneel to the cross? It is not man, 
but God ! That you may follow him, bearing the 
cross ; that you may win him, wearing the crown, 
is the prayer of Myrrha Lake. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 


II 



ATHERINE proves a treasure. She is so 
prudent, gentle, efficient. Her quiet step, 
mild voice, unbustling ways, are such a 
contrast to the noisy, rough, rude Hannah. It was 
surely a Providence that took her away and that sent 
us this good Catherine. The effect upon mamma is 
magical. Under Hannah’s reign she was excited, 
almost sleepless. The quiet of Catherine is like an 
opiate. It soothes her mentally and physically. 
She stands by her for hours bathing her head and 
her closed, suffering eyes, or smoothing her wavy 
brown hair with her gentle palm. Mamma and I 
are delighted. We have hopes now that her eyes 
will improve. 

I have made a discovery. Our wonderful 

Catherine is a Catholic — a Roman Catholic ! I was 
never more surprised. Last evening, after having 
bade mamma good-night, I went back to her room 
for something. It was already late ; for Catherine, 
who has some time been maid to a travelling in- 
valid in Ireland, had been telling us stories and 
legends of the Emerald Isle. In the midst, 
mamma, who is already better, fell asleep. Cathe- 
rine sleeps on a lounge near her, and awakens at 
her first call. What a difference ! Hannah might 
have been one of the Seven Sleepers. 



12 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

As I returned noiselessly to the room, though the 
lamp was turned low, I could see Catherine op her 
knees, with a little cross of ivory before her, a string 
of beads in her hand. I stood motionless regard- 
ing her. Her attitude and manner were those of the 
utmost devotion. Her whispered petitions were 
audible in the silence, and I distinctly caught “ Our 
Lord’s Prayer,” though she omitted the sublime 
close. I did not at once take in the truth until I 
caught the name of Mary. I have been told from 
my very childhood that the Roman Catholics are 
worshippers of Mary ; that they bow down to her 
image, and to the pictures and images of the saints, 
to the exclusion of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 

Here, in the heart of New England, few of us 
have seen an idolater of this kind. A returned 
missionary from Burmah exhibited, not long ago, 
at the Sunday-school, some little images which the 
heathens worship. At the same time he said it was 
to similar images that the deluded adherents to 
Romanism bowed down and worshipped. 

I have not forgotten Fox's Martyrs^ nor E7ig~ 
lish History^ nor The Spanish Iniquisition. I shiven 
to think, this moment, of the crimes of Bloody 
Mary, the persecutions of the poor Huguenots, St. 
Bartholomew’s Eve — alas ! what a record of crime 
to be associated with the word— church! And 
now, here in our very midst, is one of these dread- 
ful people, and, stranger still, in the person of our 
good Catherine 1 

I stood motionless, watching her till she had 


or. Into the LigJU of Catholicity, . 13 

done- all her beads, though her slender fingers slip- 
ped around from one to another very slowly, I 
thought. There were still other prayers to be said, 
for she remained kneeling, with folded hands, and 
eyes fastened on the little cross before her. When 
all was finished, she made upon herself the sign of 
the cross, and as she arose to her feet I stole away. 

I went to my room, but not to sleep. When I 
knelt to say my customary brief prayer, I felt 
bewildered. There came upon me a strong con- 
viction that my prayer would never reach God’s 
throne. I was sure the incense was wanting — what 
else shall I call it ? — the fervor, the faith, the entire 
absence of self, which characterized the devotions 
of the humble servant of our house. On my knees 
I reflected as I never before had done; the result 
was that I felt myself to lack something, as if I 
had lost and could not find. 

I suppose I am not a Christian really. My 
father, a Congregational clergyman, who died be- 
fore my remembrance, baptized me in infancy. I 
have been taught to pray every night, and to attend 
meeting every Sunday when convenient. Further 
than this, I am in a state of waiting — waiting for 
the call to become a Christian, which I shall surely 
receive and accept if I am foreordained to be one 
of God’s elect — a change of heart, given instantane- 
ously by the Holy Ghost. Will it ever be given me ? 

Another whole day, my principal thoughts 

have been hovering about Catherine’s prayers. 
Strange I should be so exercised, simply from wit- 


14 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

nessing the devotions of an ordinary child of the 
Catholic Church! I have somewhere read that 
many of the people in that church are sincere ; that 
the priests and bishops, who are very learned, and 
know better, purposely keep them in ignorance, lest 
they should understand and rebel ; that they teach 
these poor deluded beings to be deceitful, and to 
believe that any means are lawful to bring about a 
desired end. 

Uncle Abner White, who visited us from Charles- 
town last summer, saw the burning of the Ursu- 
line Convent many years ago, which was set on 
fire by an indignant mob. He thought it was a good, 
glorious deed ; it was doing God service ; it was 
destroying the kingdom of Satan in their midst 
He told dreadful things of the Catholics — how 
servant-girls were made to poison whole fam- 
ilies of Protestants, on the principle that they 
were heretics, enemies of God, and that it was no 
sin to destroy them. I can believe Uncle Abner. 
Though he is quite uneducated, yet he is a good 
man, a devoted Methodist. And now to think 
Catherine belongs to such a people ! How do I 
know but she will poison us, notwithstanding her 
saintly ways ? I am not afraid of it. I could not 
see clearer into the heart of another than I saw into 
that of Catherine, through her illuminated face 
and eyes, when she held discourse with God, 
unmindful of the presence of another. I feel 
sure that she is a Christian ; but, oh ! how I 
wish she were not a Catholic ! Perhaps she has 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity. 15 

never been taught any other way. Probably she 
does not know how very wicked it is to worship Mary, 
who was but a mere woman ; or how foolish it is to 
call upon saints, who can have no shadow of an ear 
for mortal words. I wonder if mamma could not 
have some influence over her. 

Day after day passes, and I dare not tell 

mamma what I know would shock her. Catherine 
is such a comfort to her, so attentive, constant, kind. 
I so greatly fear she would turn her away. I feel as 
though this would be imjust, unreasonable. Some- 
thing, I know not what, attracts me wonderfully to 
this idolater. I cannot bear to think of her going 
from us, at least until she has learned to practise 
her devotions in our more simple way. But, then, 
our way is so very simple, there is not much prac- 
tice about it. f 

I wonder what it means to pray with beads ? I 
have been on the point of asking Catherine ; or, at 
least, of letting her know that I have discovered her 
secret, but I do not know how to begin. I expect 
mamma ought to know, but I have hardly the cour- 
age to tell her ; her eyes are far from well, and I 
feel pretty sure it would distress her to know she 
was attended by a subject of the Pope. If she was 
where the Pope is, Catherine I mean, I suppose 
she would kneel and kiss his toe, which similar 
performance was represented by a picture in my 
geography. Of what folly may not ignorance be 
guilty ! But what a weight of responsibility and 
sin must rest upon the heads of the wicked, crafty 


1 6 The Heart of My rrha Lake;' 

priests ! What can be their object— what do they 
gain by it ? I wonder if they get rich, and live in 
fine houses, and ride in fine carriages ; it must be, 
or they would not stoop so low as to delude the 
poor and ignorant. They make great shows* and 
parades. I remember having read about their 
great doings in Rome, where the Pope is borne 
about on the shoulders of men, and he is saluted 
as if he were God himself. And the cardinals, 
dressed in scarlet, satins, and velvets, with orna- 
ments, fringes, and tassels of gold, and hats which 
sparkle with precious stones — how unlike Jesus and 
his humble fishermen ! 

I have just come from Catherine’s room. 

Passing through the hall, I noticed her door ajar. 
Thinking she might be within, I rapped lightly. 
Hearing no movement, I pushed open the door and 
entered. Unlike most of servants, she keeps her room 
in perfect tidiness, as she does her person. I stopped 
suddenly, as if I had no right to intrude. Glancing 
around, my eye caught an unusual arrangement of 
the little table at the head of her bed. It was 
covered with a white linen cloth, on which rested, 
upon a little pedestal, the ivory crucifix I had before 
seen. Back of this, leaning against the wall, were 
pictures in frames of the Virgin and Child, of the 
Crucifixion, and of the Holy Family. Beneath the 
mirror, which was suspended above, hung the beads 
with which Catherine seemed to have been assisted 
in her prayers when I became an involuntary 
witness. Wrapped in white napkins are a beautiful 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 17 

prayer-book and a handsomely bound volume 
entitled Following of Christ. A well-worn cate- 
chism and a dingy Lives of the Early Martyrs com- 
plete the adornments of that attractive little table. 

I was so curious to look into the prayer-book that 
I must have sat a full hour on the floor glancing it 
over. It is beautiful, it is sublime, that is, the most 
of it. There is what is called “ Litany of the 
Blessed Virgin,” which strikes me as unnecessary ; 
and yet I could not help thinking, when I read the 
quotation prefacing it, “ Behold ! all generations 
shall call me blessed,” that I have never heard her 
called blessed yet, nor ever think of her with any 
more devotion or feeling than of Elizabeth, Anna, 
or any other woman of the Bible. But, clearly, it 
must be a monstrous wrong to worship Mary as 
Catholics do, and I should like to know where they 
pretend to get their authority from. Though I 
suppose they do not go on authority; for have 
not I read — yes, indeed — that they, the priests, never 
allow one of their people to read the Bible, that 
they burn every Bible they find, because the good 
Book and their religion do not agree ? How cai^ 
that be ; and they have such beautiful prayers in 
their books as lift you right off your feet almost ! 
But then I suppose they get so used to them that 
they become an old story ; so that they repeat them 
over and over without thought or heart. No doubt 
our way is much the best, and God hears all prayers 
that come really from the heart; but those words 
keep ringing in my ears — a new, grand melody. 


1 8 The Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 

• 

1 had quite made up my mind to continue the 

reading of Catherine’s books, though still undecided 
whether to communicate with her on the subject. 
But when I entered softly her room, I felt so much 
like a thief that I instantly withdrew, and sought 
her in mamma’s room. Calling her aside, I 
said : 

Catherine, are you willing for me to read in 
those books that you have lying upon your table 
in your room ?” 

“ Certainly, Miss Myrrha, and you are more than 
welcome,” her face brightening, as if I had been the 
one to do her the favor. I continued : 

“ You see, Catherine, I have discovered what is 
your religion. But you need not be alarmed. I 
have not told mamma yet, and, as for myself, I 
think Just as much of you as if you were like us.” 

“ Had you asked me, I would have told you. I 
am never ashamed of my religion.” And Catherine’s 
face turned crimson, evidently from enthusiasm, not 
from shame. 

“ No, of course not; you were brought up in it; 
you do not know any other.” 

“ Any other ? No ; I do not see how there can 
be but one religion. Only one Saviour has died for 
sinners.” 

“ But then, you know, all people cannot think 
alike, nor believe alike.” 

“ Not on other things, perhaps, but they should 
all have faith in our blessed Lord.” 

“ Well, they do, I suppose ; but what I mean is, 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity. 19 

% 

there have to be different churches to suit different 
people.” 

I don’t understand why. Our Lord taught one 
doctrine. You will find in my catechism, ‘ One 
Lord, one faith, one baptism,’ and it is taken 
from the Holy Scriptures. Also, you will find where 
it says ‘ One fold — one Shepherd.’ ” 

“And fold means church, doesn’t it — ^yes, I’ve 
read that in my Bible, but I did not stop to think 
about it. When you have plenty of time, Catherine, 
I wish you would tell me somewhat about your 
religion.” 

“ Dear Miss Myrrha, I would like to do so, but 
I cannot. You need some one wiser than myself. 
But I can tell you what I do know in my simple 
way. If you will read my catechism, that will tell 
you all you need to know.” 

“ Will it ? Oh ! well, then. I will not detain you 
standing here any longer. Thank you.” 

Catherine warmly pressed my hand, and turned 
away with tears in her eyes. I wonder why ? 
Returning hastily to her room, I took the catechism, 
somewhat ragged and soiled, and sat down on a 
low seat by the window. I felt, in some strange 
way, that I should get a better understanding of 
it if I read it in its own place of abode, wherein 
stood the crucifix, and wherein I supposed Cath- 
erine usually said her prayers, than if I carried 
it to my own room. I sat there, quite absorbed, 
from morning until noon, when I had finished 
it. Had it been a sensational novel, I could not 
have read it more intently. I paused to meditate 


20 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


at some passages. The catechism expressly states 
that therein are contained all the doctrines of the 
Catholic Church. Now, my idea of that church 
has always been that its most prominent features 
were the worship of images, of. the Blessed Virgin 
and the saints, and that its members might commit 
all kinds of sins, no matter how many or how 
grievous, with the full belief that by paying a cer- 
tain sum of money to the priest, and confessing all 
these sins, they received pardon of God, and were 
at liberty to go away, again to commit the same 
transgressions. This little book, which professes to 
contain “ all Christian doctrine/’ and which is the 
vade mecu7n of humble Catholics like Catherine, 
teaches nothing of the kind. Mary is to be prayed 
to and venerated, as an exalted creature, and 
an intercessor before God — not worshipped as 
a goddess. The same of the saints. There is 
a vast difference. Even this, however, presup- 
poses a belief that they hear one’s prayers. This is 
not at all probable, nor authorized by the Bible. 
Then, Mary is called “ Mother of God,” which, at 
first, struck me as blasphemous. And it still strikes 
me thus. “ Mother of God ”! Then is she not to 
be indeed worshipped by every living creature ? I 
never knew before what was the Ave Maria that we 
read so much of. The Ave Afaria seems ever to 
follow the Pater Nosier. There can be no harm in 
repeating the first portion of the Hail Mary, as it is 
from the Bible itself. And the last part, which is 
said to have been added by the church — “ Holy 
Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity. 21 

and at the hour of our death ” — would be quite com- 
forting as a petition if we only knew that she could 
hear us. Because, if we have faith in prayer, and 
believe in the assurance that “ the prayer of the 
righteous man availeth much,” we must believe that 
the prayers of one so favored as the Mother of 
Christ — 

Mother of Christ/ And is not Christ God ? — the 
Second Person in the - Blessed Trinity. Did not 
Christ say, “ I and my Father are one ” ? Is there 
such a power in habit ? We say calmly, “ Mary, 
Mother of Christ.” We are startled at, “ Mary, 
Mother of God.” But if we deny to her this title, 
it seems to me that we deny that Christ is equal to 
the Father— nay, that we deny the doctrine of the 
Trinity itself. It is doubtless clearer to wiser heads 
than mine — and should be verily ; a girl of eighteen 
is no fit theologian. 

I have re-read in the catechism the chapter on 
“ Prayer.” I there find, “ The saints and angels 
hear us,” since “ there is joy in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth ” — doing penance ” it is there. I 
wonder what is the difference? It really would 
seem from that, that they may be endowed with the 
gift of hearing earthly voices. I know nothing 
about it — absolutely nothing. I wish I did. Ah ! 
I am so weary and confused. I will turn to the 
catechism, and commit to memory some of those 
beautiful prayers — the Acts of Contrition, Faith, 
Hope, and Love. As I read them, they seem to 
carry me near to God, or to bring God nearer to me. 


22 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


II. 



HEN I took up that small book of Cathe- 
rine’s called A General Catechism of 
the Christiaii Doctrine^ I little dreamed 
upon what a study I had entered. Again, after 
reading it through, I as little dreamed upon what 
a sea of speculation I had launched. I become 
thoroughly perplexed and lost in its teachings. I 
turn from it to the prayer-book ; and now and 
then I read a chapter in the Following of Christy 
which seems to me an epitome of piety. But 1 
am obliged to go back to the knotty questions of 
this one little, frail, tattered pamphlet. I have 
endeavored to distract my thoughts by diving into 
the pages of Dickens and Scott. These favor- 
ite authors have ceased to charm me. If only 
I had the courage to speak to my dear mother ! 
She had a dear friend sitting with her for a time 
yesterday. I took that occasion to call Catherine 
to my room. I was ashamed for her to know to what 
an extent my curiosity — I know not what otherwise 
to term it — in examining into her religion had 
reached. Therefore, I assumed an indifference 
which I was far from feeling. 

“ Well, Catherine,” I said, “ I have been reading 
your books, more especially this little forlorn-look- 
ing wayfarer. Some of it I can make out and 



oVy Into the Light of Catholicity. 23 

understand, the rest is unintelligible. Do you 
believe it all, Catherine ?” 

‘ Yes, Miss Myrrha, I believe it.” ' 

“ Why do you believe it ?” 

“ Because it contains the doctrines of the 
church.” 

‘‘ Exactly ; but why do you believe the doctrines 
of the church ?” 

“ Because we are commanded to hear the church, 
which is the pillar and the ground of truth.” 

“ Oh ! yes, I observed that command in the cate- 
chism, which was accompanied by a reference to 
the chapter and verse in the Bible from which it 
was quoted. I looked for the reference because I 
did not remember ever to have read it or to have 
heard it quoted. But I found it, word for word. 
From that might be signified that there should be 
really but one church — that there was but one 
church.” 

“ And just above in the catechism, ‘ He that will 
not hear the church, let him be to thee as a heathen 
and a publican.’ That, too, is from one of the 
Gospels,” said Catherine. 

‘^The church — always the church,” I resumed. 

Perhaps it means in whatever church one may be, 
one is to obey that church.” 

I don’t know,” persisted Catherine, “ about any 
church but the church that our blessed Lord 
founded and taught.” 

“ That is all one need to know, if only one could 
find out which that one is.” 


24 The Heart of MyrrJia Lake j 

Catherine at once jumped upon Peter’s Rock. 

“You know. Miss Myrrha, that our blessed 
Lord said to Peter: “ Upon this rock I will build 
my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail 
against it.” 

“ I remember. But it seems no one church has 
stood.” 

“ O Miss Myrrha ! do you know what you say ? 
Did our blessed Saviour speak truth or did he not ? 
If he spoke truth, the church stands to-day. 
If he did not, he was an impostor and not God. I 
have heard Father Burke say that more than 
once.” 

“ Catherine, do you feel very sure that you are 
in the right church — just as sure as that you are sit- 
ting in that chair before me now ?” 

“ Just as sure, ma’am, just as sure. We are poor, 
blind human beings. Does it look reasonable that 
our Lord, who came to save us from our sins, should 
have taught his Apostles contrary doctrines ? ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t suppose he did. I have no doubt 
the Apostles understood everything, and they form- 
ed the true church. But it has been so mixed up 
since.” 

Catherine raised her eyes imploringly, and wrung 
her hands. 

“ The good Lord knows,” she said, “ I wish I 
could tell you all about it. I know it, I have it 
all in my heart, but I cannot explain it. If only 
a priest were here! He would make it just as 
clear as day.” 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 25 


“ How should one of your priests know any 
better than one of our ministers ?” 

“ Don’t it stand to reason,” said Catherine, al- 
most scandalized at my placing her minister and 
mine in the same sentence, that priests of the true 
church should understand all about the church 
better than those who do not believe in it ? In 
the first- place, they are very learned, and, besides, 
they are enlightened by the Holy Ghost. 

“And I have just as much reason 'to think that 
ours are also. By the way, you have to confess 
all your sins to your priests, don’t you ?” 

Catherine bowed her head silently. 

Now, I had no thought of asking this question. 
Rather, I had thought of it before to-day, but re- 
solved not to speak of it. In the catechism and 
prayer-book I have read all that is said upon the 
‘ Sacrament of Penance,’ as it is called, and it 
seemed to me too sacred and solemn a subject to 
be spoken of lightly. But I felt in a strange, un- 
usual, obstinate mood just then. Catherine and 
her singular books had become, in some sort, 
antagonists with which I was no longer to dally 
or sport, but which I was to attack and over- 
come. Either her books were all wrong, or my pre- 
conceived notions of her religion were altogether 
false. My own father was a clergyman of the 
Congregational Church. Would not he be likely 
to know about all religions and all churches, and 
choose for himself what he thought most likely to 
be right ? At all events, I ought to believe as my 


26 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


father did. Perhaps he thought so ; that he ought 
to believe as his father did, and never inquired into 
it. I wonder if he ever read any books at all like 
these of Catherine’s ! I shall make it my business 
to look over some of his books when it comes a 
little warmer weather, when I won’t freeze up in the 
garret ; that is, if I can make my way through fes- 
toons and tapestries of cobwebs. Most likely they 
are musty and moth-eaten, to say nothing of depre- 
dations of rats, who make a haunted castle of our 
house. 

As I have said, Catherine replied to my question 
by a nod simply. She, however, kept her eye 
upon me, as much as to say, “ I have had some ex- 
perience with Protestants ; I know what is coming, 
but I shall not flinch.” 

“ You do not believe that the priest can forgive 
your sins, do you ?” 

“Yes,” was her firm reply. 

“ Then you must believe him equal to God ?” 

“ Oh ! no. Miss Myrrha. Why do you think 
that?” 

“ Why, how can he forgive your sins, if he can- 
not see into your heart, and know what they 
are ?” 

“ We have to tell him our sins.” 

“ But supposing you keep back the worst ones — 
how is he going to know ?” 

“ He can only suppose that we tell him all. If 
we do not, his absolution does us no good, and we 
are more wicked in the sight of God than before ; we 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 27 

have committed sacrilege, and told a lie to the Holy 
Ghost.” 

“ How can that be ? Your priest is only a man. 
Is it any worse to lie to him than to any one else ?” 

“ Miss Myrrha, you don’t know anything about 
it. I wish, O my God ! that you did.” 

“ Do you suppose that every one who goes to 
confession to a priest unfolds every sin, as unto 
God ?” 

“ If he does not, he is a very bad Catholic, and 
will never go to heaven unless he repent before he 
dies, and makes a good confession.” 

I had already a tolerably clear understanding of 
the Catholic “ Sacrament of Penance ” from those 
books I had examined. I saw quite clearly that 
the validity of the absolution rested upon the pro- 
per dispositions of the penitent. He must be 
heartily sorry for his sins, and purpose amendment 
for the future. He must make a good confession, 
as in the presence of God who sees him, and it is 
always on the supposition that the confession is 
good that the priest pronounces the absolution. 
Behind and before all this must be the firm faith 
that “ confession ” is of divine institution ; that 
God had conferred upon frail mortal man his own 
divinest attribute, that of forgiveness of sin. Two 
weeks ago my whole nature would have revolted 
against this proposition. Now, if I do not accept 
it — and I do not — I am extremely puzzled to know 
what this passage in the New Testament can mean, 
or can possibly refer to: “Receive ye the Holy 


28 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


Ghost — whosesoever sins ye forgive, they are for- 
given, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are 
retained.” I see not how I am to be enlightened 
upon this or several other points — for this good 
Catherine, as she herself admits, cannot explain, 
though I see she understands or has faith in them. 
I wished to see, by thus questioning her, if she un- 
derstood these things as taught by her books, or if 
she understood them as Protestants declare Catho- 
lics to understand them. I could perceive that she 
was all right, but then she is more intelligent than 
most of her class. I determined to persevere still 
further. 

“ I presume you are honest and sincere — I have 
no doubt you are, but do you think that all 
Catholics understand the doctrine of confession as 
you do ? Do not the majority of Catholic people 
commit a great many sins, saying to themselves, 
‘ For a sum of money I can obtain pardon for this,’ 
and after absolution they sin as before without the 
least remorse of conscience ?” 

“ No, ma’am. I don’t know of a single Catholic 
so ignorant of his religion as that. Every Catholic 
child, before his first Holy Communion, is obliged 
to know his catechism by heart. If he cannot 
read, it is taught him. There are Catholics, ma’am, 
who do not live as they should, and are a scandal 
to their religion. In fact, we all know, better than 
we do. Ignorance of what our religion teaches we 
are not guilty of, however unlearned we may be in 
other things.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 29 


‘‘ But it seems so monstrous ; it has such a strange 
sound, to pay money for the pardoning of one’s 
sins.” 

“ I have been a Catholic twenty-eight years, 
ma’am, and I have never given money to a priest 
when I have been to confession, nor have I ever 
known it to be done. If Protestants would talk 
about us less, and learn about us more, they would 
not believe such bad things of us.” And with this 
remark Catherine punched a hole quite through 
her handkerchief, which she had been nervously 
fingering. 

“ Very true,” I said, rising. “ I hope, Catherine, 
I have said nothing to hurt your feelings. If all 
Catholics are like you, I shall be disposed to think 
them the best people in the world. But your reli- 
gion is so altogether different from ours — and there 
is so much of it, I do not know whenever or how- 
ever you get to learn it all.” 

“ We are brought up with it. Miss Myrrha — and 
that is why we live in it and die in it. Our religion 
is our all, ma’am. God gave it to us — blessed be 
his name !” 


30 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


III. 

morning, mamma wished me to read 
her. I took up a small volume, 
mnah More's Private Devotion. After 
reading a page or two, which seemed to me un- 
usually stupid — ^because I could not concentrate 
my mind upon it, doubtless — a thought occurred to 
me. Hastily dropping the book, I ran up-stairs, 
and returned as soon, bringing with me the beauti- 
ful work of Thomas h Kempis, The Followmg of 
Christ. I opened at “ The Royal Road of the Holy 
Cross,” which was already my favorite portion of 
a book which had for me the impress of a divine 
inspiration : 

“ Why, then, art thou afraid to take up thy cross, 
which leadeth to the kingdom ? In the cross is 
salvation — life — protection from enemies. 

“ In the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness ; 
in the cross is strength of mind — joy of spirit. 

“ In the cross is height of virtue — perfection of 
sanctity. 

“ There is no health of soul, nor hope of eternal 
life, but in the cross. 

“Take up therefore thy cross, and follow JesuS; 
and thou shalt go into life everlasting. 

“ He is gone before thee, carrying his cross, 
and he died for thee upon the cross, that thou 



or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 31 

mayest also bear thy cross, and love to die on the 
cross. 

“ Because if thou die with him, thou shalt also 
live with him ; and if thou art his companion in 
suffering, thou shalt also be his companion in glory. 

“ Go where thou wilt, seek what thou wilt, and 
thou shalt not find a higher way above, nor a safer 
way below, than the way of the holy cross. 

“ Dispose and order all things according as thou 
wilt, and as seems best to thee; and thou wilt still 
find something to suffer, either willingly or unwill- 
ingly ; and so thou shalt always find the cross. 

“ No man hath so heartfelt a sense of the passion 
of Christ, as he whose lot it hath been to suffer like 
things. 

“ The cross, tlierefore, is always ready, and every- 
where awaiteth thee. 

“ Thou canst not escape it, whithersoever thou 
runnest ; for wheresoever thou goest thou earnest 
thyself with thee, and shalt always find thyself. 

“ If thou carry the'^ross willingly, it will carry 
thee, and bring thee to thy desired end; namely, to 
that place where there will be an end of suffering, 
though here there will be no end. 

“If thou carry it unwillingly, thou makest it a 
burden to thee, and loadest thyself the more, and 
nevertheless thou must bear it. 

“ Dost thou think to escape that which no mortal 
ever could avoid ? What saint ever was in the 
world without his cross and tribulation ? 

“For even our Lord Jesus Christ himself was 


32 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

not for one hour of his life without the anguish of 
his passion. 

“ It behooved that Christ should suffer, and rise 
from the dead, and so enter into his glory. 

“ And how dost thou seek another way than this 
royal way, which is the way of the holy cross ? 

“ The whole life of Christ was a cross, and a 
martyrdom; and dost thou seek for thyself rest and 
joy ?” 

I had read thus far — and I knew it almost by 
heart — when I was interrupted. 

Myrrha, my child, what book is that ?” 

I replied by reading aloud the title-page. 

“ Whose is it — where did you get it ?” 

“ It belongs to Catherine — our good Catherine, 
mamma. Do you not like it ?” 

I glanced at Catherine, who was sewing iii 
another part of the room. She blushed as I spoke, 
without looking up, however. 

“ Is there much of it — is it a large or small 
book ?” And mamma raised her head, that she 
might see from beneath her great green shade the 
size of the book. “ Oh ! there is a good deal of it,” 
she continued. “ I am so glad ! It does me so 
much good. Read on, Myrrha.” 

I finished “ The Royal Road of the Holy Cross.” I 
read “ Of the Internal Discourse of Christ to a 
Faithful Soul,” “ Truth speaketh within us without 
Noise of Words,” “ That we ought to Walk before 
God in Truth and Humility,” “ Of the Wonderful 
Effect of Divine Love,” “ That all Things are to be 


ovy Into the Light of. Catholicity, 33 

referred to God, as to our Last End,” “ That it 
is sweet to despise the World, and to serve God,” 
“ Of acquiring Patience,” “ Of the Obedience of an 
Humble Subject,” “ Of considering the Secret 
Judgments of God, tliat we be not puffed up with 
our own Good Works,” “That True Consolation is 
to be sought in God alone,” “ That all Solicitude 
is to be placed in God,” “ Of supporting Injuries ” — 
in short, what chapter could I name in this ini- 
mitable volume which must not have proved a 
comfort to a poor soul who for months had not 
been able to bear the light of day ? 

Mamma’s dinner was brought in, and I went out 
to mine. When I returned, I found that, contrary 
to custom, she had cleared her dishes, which Cathe- 
rine was in the act of carrying away. 

“ You have a better appetite than usual,” I said. 
“ You have eaten up everything, for once. How 
does that happen ?” 

One of her rare, faint smiles played upon her 
features, and she replied in her usually languid 
way : 

“ I scarcely know myself. Only I ate without 
_ thinking of my food. I do not suppose I can tell 
you now of what it consisted. I was thinking of 
what you have been reading. Please read to me 
again the author’s name.” 

I did as requested, adding, “ Translated from the 
Latin.” 

“ From the Latin ! Why, it must be centuries 
old! Nobody writes in Latin in these days^ But 


34 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


that doesn’t matter, that I know of — only I do like 
to know something about an author that interests 
me.” 

I continued my reading until Catherine returned 
from her dinner. Then mamma said to her : 

“ Catherine, where did you find this good book ?” 
And Catherine replied ; 

“I have always had it, ma’am — or rather I 
should not say so exactly. I had one just like it, 
only that it was small and old, which I brought 
from Ireland with me. It had been my mother’s — 
so for many reasons I prized it highly. A little 
child, at a place where I lived a year or two ago, 
got possession of it, and nearly tore it to pieces. I 
have the fragments still in my trunk. The child’s 
mother was so kind as to re^Dlace it with this, which 
is much richer and finer — though, of course, it can- 
not be to me quite what mine was.” 

“ I should have thought,” pursued mamma, 
“ that, having been brought up in Ireland, you 
would have been a Catholic.” 

“ And that is what I am, ma’am — I am a Catho- 
lic.” 

“ A Catholic ! And you never told me !” 

“ Had you asked me, ma’am, I should have told 
you. I never deny my religion.” 

“ Put away the book, Myrrha,” said my mother 
authoritatively. “ And, Catherine, I shall not need 
your services after to-day. You can leave by 
to-morrow’s stage. You may go now, and pack 
your trunk.” 


or^ hito the Light of Catholicity. 35 


Catherine went out, closing the door softly 
behind her, and mamma and I were alone. The 
discovery, then, had been made, and so much sooner 
than I had hoped or intended. What was to be 
done ? Mamma’s first question evinced her taking 
it for granted that I was acquainted with Cathe- 
rine’s religious faith. 

“ When did you first learn that this girl was a 
Catholic ?” 

So soon was “ my good, good Catherine ” 
changed into “ this girl.” 

“ Since the fourth day after her arrival.” 

“ Of course, she could afford to lose no time in 
slyly affecting your mind, and penetrating it with 
her pernicious poison. She has been well trained — 
she performs her part well. She is, no doubt, fresh 
from the school of the priests, and has peijured her 
soul with vows to do their bidding.” 

“ How can you talk thus, mamma ? You are 
very unjust to Catherine, who — ” 

“ Do not justify or uphold that deceitful woman, 
who has crept into my house to win my child for 
the evil one.” 

“You forget, dear mamma, that we begged her 
of Mrs. Farnsworth, who, to accommodate us, 
returned to Charlestown without her, who was nurse 
for her children. And you forget, too, how often 
we have both thanked Heaven for sending us so 
good a person, in place of that careless, heartless 
Hannah, who would shout so loud at class-meeting, 
but who seemed really to have no religion whatever.” 


36 The Heart of My rr ha Lake ; 


But to have a Papist in the house ! I wonder 
your father does not rise from his grave.” And she 
broke into a passionate fit of weeping. 

I was alarmed at this. Such excitement would 
ruin her poor eyes. I fell on my knees. by her side, 
and begged her to be quiet. 

“ Listen to me,” I said. Let me tell you just 
how it all happened. I discovered Catherine’s 
religion by accident — without the least design or 
knowledge on her part.” And I went on to relate all 
that has been above recorded. I held her thin 
hand clasped in mine, as I spoke, rapidly, hu- 
riedly, that she might not interrupt me. She heard 
me calmly to the end. Then she wrung her hands, 
and cried : 

“ God have mercy upon . us — the mischief is 
already wrought, I fear !” 

“ No, no, mamma, not a bit of it. I am not a 
Catholic — how can I be ? I know only one 
Catholic, Catherine, who is a Christian, if there- is 
one. I have read the catechism, the prayer-book, 
and this other one dear, dear book, that is so 
beautiful. There is nothing bad in any of them. 
On the contrary, everything in them is so good 
that it is absolutely charming. Shall I despise 
them because I find them belonging to a poor ser- 
vant of our house ? No, were she ten times a 
Catholic !” 

O my child — my poor child, your mind is 
already poisoned !” 

I was still upon my knees by my mother’s side. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 37 

I repeated aloud the Acts of Contrition, Faith, 
Hope, and Love. “ Dear mother,” I continued, 
“those prayers are in the Catholic prayer-book, and 
in the little book of Catherine’s which contains all 
the Christian doctrines taught in her church.” 

“ Those books are probably just gotten up to lie 
around loosely in Protestant houses, especially 
intended to fall into the hands of an artless child 
like yourself.” 

“ That could not be possible, could it ?” 

“ What is not possible to these unscrupulous ene- 
mies of the church of God ?” 

“ But they claim that they constitute the only 
true church.” 

“ Their claiming it doesn’t make it so. No ; in 
reality they are the kingdom of Anti-Christ spoken 
of in the Bible. You will see from reading Barfies' 
Notes that the prophecy of the coming of Anti- 
Christ applies strictly and remarkably to these 
Papists. You have not forgotten the horrors of the 
Inquisition, the massacre — ” 

“ Please, mamma,” I said, “ do not let us be 
tortured by any such recollections. We have 
nothing to do with them. They have nothing to 
do with the pious teachings of these books.” 

“ But they have to do with it. Actions speak 
louder than words. The whole past history of that 
cruel kingdom of Satan proves clearly that it has 
never been actuated by any such pious precepts as 
you have read to me this morning. Such a book 
as this Following of' Christ is the lure held out by 


38 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


the crafty spider for the innocent fly. Depend 
upon it, my child, it is a poison for the unsuspect- 
ing.” 

“ Then, mamma, it is a most charming poison, 
such as must waft souls into heaven — sweeter to 
me than other people’s honey.” 

“You do not see, my child, to what it leads.” 

“Yes I do, mamma. It has led my soul nearer 
to God. It makes me think of him every day and 
hour of my life. It makes me love Jesus, as my 
father, my brother, my friend, my all.” 

“And, Myrrha, did you not do this before?” 

“ Never, mamma, or not at all as now. I 
thought of God coldly and carelessly, as I think of 
the stars — as being far off and unattainable. Some- 
what as I thought of the Hindoo gods — I knew 
that they existed, but not for me ; and thought of 
heaven as of Africa or India — a place of habitation 
for souls which I was unlikely ever to behold.” 

“ I did not know, Myrrha, that I had such a lit- 
tle heathen in my own house.” 

“ As little did I know or dream of it. I was as 
senseless as an image of clay. Now I have eyes, 
and I see !” 

“ I wish I could say as much, dear. But I am 
tired — very tired. You will have to get me ready 
to lie down. How am I to get along without 
Catherine ?” 

“ I think you could get along tolerably, if you 
would allow me to do for you. But why send 
Catherine away? Please, mamma, let me speak 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 39 

for her ” — as she was about interrupting me. “ What 
has she done ? — what left undone ? What has she 
said to offend ? Literally nothing ! Yet you send 
her away. Why ? Because you discover that she 
holds a religious faith which you cannot approve. 
But reflect. She was brought up in this faith. She 
knows no other. She is not answerable for the sins 
of the whole Catholic Church. It is not probable 
she has ever seen a house of Inquisition or an 
instrument of torture. You regarded her as almost 
perfect before you made this unfortunate discovery. 
Forget that you have made it, and see only in her 
the good, faithful, humble servant of the last three 
weeks. When you shall have discovered her to be 
deceitful, false, scheming, then only will you be 
justified in sending her away. Dear mamma, for 
your own sake, think better of your hasty dismissal 
of the best of servants.” 

“It is on your account, Myrrha. I would not 
fear her snares were she Satan transformed. But 
for you, Myrrha, to have the least leaning to that 
church of iniquity !” 

“ Cannot you see, mamma, there is not the least 
danger ?” 

“ But you will read her books ? Promise me 
that you will read them no more.” 

“ But, mamma, I have already read them — 
and only good has come from them. Let me 
go on reading them to you. They will, at 
least, be something new to interest you. If 
they contain only good, why, let us have it. 


40 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

If they contain evil also, let us discover and dis- 
card it.” 

For some time longer I reasoned and persuaded, 
till at length she yielded to her own silent wish 
that Catherine should remain. 


or^Iyito the Light of Catholicity. 41 


IV. 


VERAL weeks gone by, and without a 
word added to these pages. Mamma’s 
eyes became slightly worse again from 
the excitement and fit of weeping to which she 
gave way when we came so nearly losing Cathe- 
rine. They are still better now than before. 
Catherine bathes them night and morning from a 
little vial of her own, which she says is very good 
for them. Mamma has great faith in it. No other 
remedy has been used with so good effect. I have 
read all of Catherine’s books to mamma. She does 
not know what to think of them. She, however, 
raises more objections than I do. But they have 
taken a firm hold of her mind. 

One day she said to Catherine, after I had 
finished the Lives of the Early Martyrs : “ The 
strongest objection against your church is, that it 
does not allow you to read the Bible.” 

“ But it does allow me to read the Bible.” 

‘‘ Why, then, have you no Bible along with your 
other books ?” 

“ I have one in my trunk. It was my mother’s 
Bible. When I came to America, it was my father’s 
parting gift.” 

“ Is it possible,” exclaimed my mother, “ that we 
have never heard anything about your church but 



42 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


falsehoods ? Have you any objections to my seeing 
this Bible of yours ?” 

“None in the world, ma’am.” And Catherine 
laid aside her sewing and left the room. 

“ I wonder if she really has a Bible, or if she will 
come back with some excuse about having had it 
lost or stolen,” spoke mamma incredulously, invol- 
untarily faithful to tradition upon this point. 

I wondered how she could judge Catherine so 
harshly, when she had never yet detected her in the 
slightest deviation from the truth. I, however, said 
nothing, fully confident that the promised book 
would be forthcoming. 

Catherine returned directly, placing the book in 
mamma’s hands, whose eyes would barely admit of 
an examination sufficing to prove that it was indeed 
the blessed Word of God. 

“ And you brought this from Ireland ?” 

“ I did, ma’am.” 

“ And you are at liberty to read it whenever you 
please ?” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

“ Myrrha, I wish you would go over to Mr. 
Wells’, and ask him to please come and see me.” 

Now, Mr. Wells is our pastor. He succeeded 
poor papa in the Congregational Church, and has 
now been here fifteen years. I was surprised at 
mamma’s sudden request, and somewhat terrified. 
At the same time, I was curious to know what 
she might have to say to him. I lost no time in 
performing her errand, and as Mr. Wells was at 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 43 

home he came over at once. My mother still held 
in her hand that Catholic Bible, that had found its 
bold way into the heart of New England, its ene- 
my, still unbiirned, imscattered. She commenced in 
her gentle tone of voice : 

I understand from my daughter, Mr. Wells, 
that in your sermon of last Sunday you referred to 
the commonly received opinion that Catholics are 
not allowed to read the Bible — that Catholic priests 
burn the Bible wherever they find it ? ” 

“Your daughter informed you correctly. I 
repeated that assertion, than which the Gospel is 
not more true.” 

“ I do not dispute you, remember. But I wish 
you to reconcile it wiih this stubborn fact which 
lies before us. I hold in my hand a Catholic Bible. 
It is the property of Catherine Daly, who brought 
it with her from Ireland, the land of Catholics. 
She assures me it was her mother’s book, given to 
that mother by her uncle, who was a priest. Cathe- 
rine, whom you see here present, is surprised at our 
belief that she is not allowed to read the Bible.” 

“ How long have you been from Ireland,” said 
Mr. Wells to Catherine. 

“ Twelve years last summer, sir.” 

“ And you brought this Bible with you ?” reach- 
ing over and taking it from mamma’s hand. 

“ I did, sir.” 

“ Do you read it much ?” 

“ Not so much as my other books, which I better 
understand.” 


44 Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 

“ Then you do not understand this very well ?” 

■ “ Certain portions of it I do ; and those I find in 
my catechism.” 

“ But you do not study this book, and exercise 
your own judgment upon different passages.” 

“ I do not interpret it — if that is what you mean. 
The church is the interpreter of Holy Scripture.” 

“Exactly. You see, Mrs. Lake, this young 
woman admits that, even though she reads this book, 
she is not at liberty to judge for herself upon a 
single verse. She might just as well have admitted 
the general allegation of being denied the Bible ; 
for what is the use of reading it, if you must take 
other people’s ipse dixits as to what it means ?” 

“ There seems to me to be quite a difference, Mr. 
Wells. I never read my Bible solely to extract 
and build up doctrines. I read it for the comfort I 
find in its precious promises — for consolation in its 
divine words of love. And as to judging for my- 
self with regard to a single portion of the Inspired 
Word, I would much prefer to depend upon an 
authority so reliable as to be unquestionable.” 

“ Which you can never find in this world, madam ; 
nor do I deem it desirable.” 

“ I do not know about that, sir. It is my im- 
pression that, if the six hundred sects, who all 
found their faith upon the Bible, yet all follow dif- 
ferent doctrines and practices, could listen to one 
voice telling them in what things precisely to join and 
become one, they would have reason to fall on their 
knees, thank God, and do reverence to that voice.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 45 

“ Oh ! yes, madam ; if earth were heaven, it would 
not be earth. One must follow the voice of his 
conscience, and this Holy Word of God, ‘ which is 
a light to our feet, and a lamp to our path. ’ ” 

“ Will you tell me, Mr. Wells, if you please, in 
what the Catholic Bible differs from ours ?” 

“ The Catholic Bible, Mrs. Lake, contains books 
that are not canonical. You must know that most 
of the doctrines of the Catholic Church have no 
warrant in Scripture. Therefore they have made 
use of certain books, written at an early day, and 
at that time considered as wanting the seal of inspir- 
ation. These, however, form a part of their Bible. 
Besides, their translation is just made to suit their 
peculiar views and institutions.” 

“ Their translation — but does not this and ours 
come from the same tongue ?” 

“ Yes, that is true ; but you know enough about 
translations to know how easy it is to give such 
rendering to words as may be most desirable or 
expedient.” 

“ But, Mr. Wells, I cannot think that men charg- 
ed with the translation of God’s Holy Word could 
wilfully misinterpret.” 

You have more faith in human nature than it 
will bear, I fear.” 

“ Our Bible is what is termed King James’ 
Translation. Now, the Holy Bible must have 
been in existence since the days of the Apostles. 
As there was but the Catholic Church from the 
time of Christ up to the Reformation, how was the 


46 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


Bible preserved ? — especially as the church itself 
burned and chained Bibles.” 

“ We suppose, Mrs. Lake, there were Christians 
scattered all over the world during all those many 
centuries. Many lived in caves and holes of the 
earth ; it was by such as these that the good book 
was preserved. Moreover, it was the will of God 
that his Word should not perish; and God’s will no 
man can withstand.” 

“ You will please pardon my persistent question- 
ing, Mr. Wells. I have been seriously thinking for 
the last few weeks. You will not deem me a here- 
tic, I hope, if I tell you I have been reading the 
Catholic catechism.” 

“ ‘ Playing with fire ’ — ‘ handling two-edged 
tools.’ Your daughter has not, I hope ?” 

“Yes, my daughter reads everything to me.” 

“ Can you be aware of the danger you encounter 
in exposing her youthful mind to such specious 
errors As regards yourself, there may not be the 
same danger ; still, even in your own case, I would 
counsel precaution, and avoidance of any and every 
book touching upon that so-called religion of de- 
lusions, superstitions, and lies.” 

“ Bear with me a moment, Mr. Wells. We have 
read a most dark, gloomy, sinful, revolting side of 
that religion in the books of our Sunday-school 
library — books that, if put out in the guise of 
fiction, would be tolerated only in saloons and 
gambling-houses. We have read and received 
them as truths. We have been led to believe they 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 47 

represented faithful pictures of the life and teach- 
ings of a corrupt, wicked church. Do we not act 
contrary to our every other mode of conduct, when 
we thrust aside without examination, and with con- 
tempt, books that fall accidentally in our way, in 
which that church teaches her children her doctrines, 
precepts, theory, and practice ? If we find them to 
harmonize with the tales in our Sunday-school 
books, we have but to fling them aside ; if not, 
they naturally set us to thinking.” 

“ And you have thought too much for your 
good, madam. The trouble with your eyes has 
affected your mind. You are in a condition to 
receive false impressions easily, and you cannot be 
too much upon your guard. It appears to me 
incredible that any sane person can look with the 
slightest toleration upon a society, presumptuously 
claiming for itself the title of ‘ the church of God,’ 
which unblushingly teaches the worship of Mary, the 
w'orship of saints, and their relics, and, above all, 
puts forth the blasphemous assumption that her 
priests have the power of pardoning sins.” 

“ You do not believe, then, that Christ ever gave 
that power to the ministers of his church ?” 

“ Decidedly not. It is the most wicked pre- 
sumption that ever man in his pride has arrogated 
to himself. Christ give to mortal man the power 
to forgive sins ? Never. Where do we read of 
it?” 

“ Well, what do you think this passage means ? 
How do you explain it ? ‘ And Jesus breathing on 


48 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

them, said: Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whose- 
soever sins ye forgive shall be forgiven them, and 
whosesoever sins ye retain shall be retained.’ ” 

Mr. Wells did not reply for a moment. He 
seemed in a brown study ; as if those words had 
fallen on his ear for the first time. Mamma con- 
tinued : 

‘‘There was certainly given to those to whom 
Jesus spoke the power of forgiving sins, else our 
Saviour promised that which he had not power 
to give, which cannot for a moment be supposed.” 

“ Very well,” observed Mr. Wells, rallying. “ He 
was speaking to the Apostles. Christ may have 
given that power to the Apostles.” 

“ But is it not certain that he gave it to them — 
and they were but men ?” 

“ Remarkable men, however. They had also the 
power of performing miracles, even of bringing the 
dead to life. It does not follow that ministers of 
the nineteenth century shall raise the dead. The 
gift of miracles ceased with the Apostles — so also 
did that of forgiving sins, if they ever had it.” 

“We assume only that miracles ceased. Our 
Bible, upon which we wholly rely, makes no men- 
tion that miracles shall cease with the Apostles. 
The seventy disciples wrought miracles as well as 
the twelve. On the contrary, Christ expressly says, 
‘ Go teach all nations whatsoever I have com- 
manded you.’ Was it merely his immediate dis- 
ciples who were to teach all nations, or did not the 
command extend to all who should come after, 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 49 

for he says, ‘ I will be with you to the end of the 
world’ ? If Christ is with the ministers of his church, 
is there aught impossible for them to do in his 
name which the Apostles did, if they possess the 
same gift of faith ?” 

“ But they do not. And we must not expect 
improbabilities. History goes to show that the age 
of miracles ceased with the Apostles. In their 
time, miraculous manifestations were necessary in 
order to establish the truths of the Christian reli- 
gion, and to prove that Jesus Christ was indeed the 
Son of God. That being accomplished, the work- 
ing of miracles was no longer necessary.” 

“ Our Bible does not tell us that. The plainer 
inference from it is that they should continue in the 
church. The Catholic Church claims still to pos- 
sess the gift of miracles, and in that one thing, 
at least, seems not to have cut herself off from the 
church of the Apostles.” 

Whoever can swallow all the superstitions and 
admit all the claims of that church must be pos- 
sessed of an egregious credulity.” 

“You believe though, do you not, that God is 
just as able to impart the gift of miracles now 
as long ago?” 

“ Most assuredly I do ; but for some wise reason 
he does not.” 

“ I would like rather to think that our good God, 
our Heavenly Father, does not thus conceal him- 
self from his most faithful, loving children ; that 
there are pious souls upon earth, and have been 


50 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


throughout all these eighteen hundred years, who 
have found such favor in his eyes, as, through their 
faith and love, to have won his wondrous gifts. 
I love to think thus. It does not so separate us 
from the early church. It should be our study, 
it seems to me, to believe and practise just what 
the Apostles did.” 

“ And do we not, Mrs. Lake ? Can you tell me 
in what we fail ?” 

“ VVe fail in faith ; so that, if God would through 
his servants work miracles, he could not for us — for 
we would not believe. .Faith on our part is neces- 
sary ; and we have it not.” 

“ We do not wish to preach what we cannot 
practise. The gift of miracles and the power of 
pardoning sins we willingly yield to the Papists.” 

“ Coming back to this subject of pardoning sins : 
the early Christians were exhorted to ‘ confess their 
sins one to another.’ And the converts came to be 
baptized, ‘ confessing their sins.’ ” 

“ But it does not say they confessed their sins to 
a priest ?” 

“ No, it does not. Is it not natural to suppose, 
however, that he would be the proper person ?” 

AVe also confess our sins. We openly proclaim 
in presence of our brethren that we are sinners in 
the sight of God.” 

“That we are sinners— true. But that is not 
confessing our sins. We do not specify a single 
misdeed. We do not even recall our 'sins singly, 
deploring them as separating us from God. We 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity 51 

only say in a general way — ‘ We are sinners, deserv- 
ing of God’s displeasure.’ ” 

“ God looks at the heart. He knows our sins 
much better than we do, and better than we could 
tell them over to a priest.” 

“ Admitted. But if Jesus Christ authorized the 
ministers of his church to forgive sins or to retain 
them, he must have made it obligatory upon peni- 
tents to avail themselves of this Sacrament of Pen- 
ance. You have a horror at the thought of your- 
self pronouncing absolution over a sinner. Might 
you not equally shrink from pouring the waters of 
Baptism upon the brow of the convert ? How do 
you know that he is a fit recipient ? That he is or 
is not, you leave to the convert’s soul and his God. 
You baptize. him in the name of the ‘Father, and 
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.’ In that Name 
does the Catholic priest absolve the sinner from 
his sins. In the administration of any and every 
sacrament, he is but the minister, the agent, the 
servant of his Divine Lord. — You perceive, Mr. 
Wells, I have not only read Catherine’s books, but 
I have studied them well and prayerfully.” And she 
smiled a sort of deprecatory smile, as if entreating 
her pastor not to judge her too harshly. 

Mr. Wells arose and took his hat. 

“ I cannot but perceive, Mrs. Lake, that you are 
treading upon very dangerous ground. I am more 
than surprised — I am grieved, shocked. I could 
not have believed it possible that your fine mind 
should have become thus warped. You are very 


52 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


far gone, believe me. Your servant-girl must have 
bewitched you. How do you know she. ever came 
from Ireland? How do you know but these 
books are of purely American manufacture, cal- 
culated to act as lures to unwary Protestants ? You 
recollect the verse : 

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 

That to be dreaded needs but to be seen ; 

But, seen too oft, familiar with its face, 

We first endure, then pity, then embrace ’ ? 

“You do not intend to say that you think ! have 
been making a study of vice ?” 

“ Vice in disguise — or what will lead to that, you 
may depend. I am exceedingly sorry — exceed- 
ingly. May the Lord grant you to see where you 
stand before it be too late.” 

With this parting, Mr. Wells bowed low and 
retired. 

I first broke the solemn silence that prevailed 
thereafter. That I had not broken it at several 
intervals heretofore was because my tongue had 
done violence to itself. 

“'So, mamma dear, we are in the ditch !” 

“ In the what ?” 

“In the ditch. You know, ‘if the blind lead 
the blind,’ where they shall both fall, don’t you ?” 

“ Pray, my dear, be serious.” 

“ But, somehow, I do not feel serious. You 
did splendidly, though, mamma. If you could 
do so well as that, what couldn’t an intelligent, 
native-born Catholic have done! I had no idea 


01'^ Into the Light of Catholicity 53 

you had gone into the subject so thoroughly — to 
such an extent. But, mamma, there are two mom 
points wherein Catholics seem to follow the Bible 
more than we Protestants. One is fasting. It 
seems so strange that, while that is insisted upon, 
almost as much as praying, we should never even 
be exhorted to the practice of it. Then, in the 
matter of Extreme Unction. We take no notice of 
this injunction of St. James; he might as well never 
have written it,' so far as we are concerned : ‘ Is 
any sick among you ? Let him call for the elders 
of the church ; and let them pray dver him, anoint- 
ing him with oil in the name of the Lord ; and the 
prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord 
shall raise him up ; and if he have committed sins, 
they shall be forgiven him.’ Yet, in some one 
of our Sunday-school books, the fulfilment of this 
command is ridiculed, and styled ‘fixing the soul 
off for Purgatory.’ ” 

“ Myrrha, please talk no more. I am very tired 
and nervous. You had better go to your room ; 
and, Catherine, help me to lie down.” 

Catherine meantime had her face buried in her 
hands, weeping ; through her sobs brokenly thank- 
ing God “ that he had made his light to shine in 
that house.” 


54 . The Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 


V. 



diary, I fear, is fast becoming a prosy 
affair. Indeed, it has ceased to be a 
diary ; for weeks and weeks elapse with- 


out my glancing at it. The truth is, trivial things 
have lost for me their interest. Or, rather, the 
trifling incidents of everyday life appear to me 
more trivial than ever ; and I begin to think that 
when, fifty years hence, I look over these pages, 
through magnifying-glasses, I shall not care to dis- 
tract my memory by striving to recall who can be 
the Carrie Day who ran in a moment on the 19th 
of October, or the Johnny Morgan who, on No- 
vember I,” came with his mother’s compliments, 
and would we spend the afternoon and take tea ? 
Or that, on another certain day, I attempted my 
first biscuits, getting them so hard that mamma 
called them “ cannon-balls,” and she feared our 
neighbor’s jug would break his teeth in their mas- 
tication. Or that my first cake, made on the 
principle, “ the more of a good thing, the better.” 
melted all down in the dish, firmly resolved to 
simmer simply and not bake, and thenceforward 
was termed, to my chagrin, and often referred to, as 
“ Myrrha’s butter-cake.” Whether or not these 
things might interest me as an octogenarian, I can- 
not say ; but, if they do, the four volumes that are 


ovy Into the Light of Catholicity, 55 

already closely written will be as much as will be 
good for my impaired vision and imperfect memory. 

We are quite alarmed about mamma. Ever 
since her eyes commenced to improve, she has had 
a cough, and her general health seems to be failing. 
Her two sisters died of consumption ; hence she 
has long been under the impression that the same 
disease would terminate her own life. She has lit- 
tle appetite for food, and she becomes daily more 
thin- and languid. Her mind also is very ill at 
ease. She had a severe fit of remorse after her 
conversation with Mr. Wells. She had not at all 
realized or suspected until then how far in thought 
she had wandered from the faith of her church. 
Her readiness to combat all that Mr. Wells could 
urge, her self-evident satisfaction at what seemed 
to her his inconsistencies, after the close of the 
controversy aroused and alarmed her. What had 
she done? Discussed religious matters with her 
pastor — a minister of God, and in every point had 
presumed upon her own opinion, slighting and 
setting his at naught. What right had she to be 
studying into these matters, that, after all, belonged 
to theologians, and not to women and children ? 
Was it not reasonable to suppose that her father 
and her husband, both of whom were clergymen, 
had examined the subject well, and could give 
a reason for the faith that was in them ? Had 
they not made themselves acquainted with all 
these teaqhings of this “ kingdom of anti-Christ,” 
and rejected them as being false, untenable, dan- 


56 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

gerous? If the Catholic system was right and 
just in the sight of heaven, how was it that God 
had suffered Protestantism to so great an extent to 
supplant it ? At all events, was there not in the 
reformed religion all that was necessary to salva- 
tion ? Her dear friends had died in that faith— 
was it not as good for her as for them ? Why 
should she trouble herself about a matter that really 
was quite beyond her reach ? She had never 
thought for a moment of any outward change of 
faith. There was no Catholic church, no priest, 
within fifty miles. After all, what harm had been 
done ? She had been guilty of speaking too con- 
fidently, too presumingly, to her pastor, but she 
could send for him and make an apology. She felt 
sure of God’s pardon if she had been led mentally 
astray, and henceforth she would throw away all 
these conflicting doubts and speculations, and rest 
simply and securely upon the love of Christ. For 
the most part, mamma remained silent and reserv- 
ed ; she had, however, her seasons of confidence, 
when she shared with me her doubts, regrets, and 
resolves. I did my utmost to reassure her, and to 
strengthen the impression that no harm had been 
done. If we had conquered a prejudice, and come 
to believe that there might be good in a church 
of which we had thought only evil, we had been 
only in the way of our duty. It did not follow 
that, because we thought our servant-girl a good 
Christian, and because we found she had been 
well instructed and grounded in the Catholic faith, 


Into the Light of Catholicity, 57 

we were to go straightway from Congregationalism 
to Catholicity. Neither mamma nor I had thought 
of such a thing, I was sure. 

Mr. Wells was called in again, and a plain state- 
ment .made of the case. 

Mamma expressed sorrow and regret if she had 
offended in anything, and announced her deter- 
mination of inquiring no further into doctrinal points 
of religion. 

Mr. Wells was much pleased at this, and took 
the occasion to make an afternoon discourse upon 
the fulness, fitness, and simplicity of Protestantism. 
He had everything his own way. Mamma and I 
listened attentively, neither any more thinking of 
interrupting him than as if he had been in his 
pulpit, and we in our own church-pew. He closed 
by comparing Protestantism to Papacy, as he was 
pleased to term the Catholic Church. “ Every 
article of Protestantism,” said he, “has for its 
foundation the pure Word of God. Of that we are 
certain. But look at the Church of Rome ! Do 
you find within the lids of the Bible such a word 
as Purgatory ? Do you find one word of the 
worship or even the veneration of Mary? Can 
you point to one passage that teaches the invoca- 
tion of saints, or from which you can infer that they 
hear our prayers ? Do you find that Christ ap- 
pointed a pope to rule over his church? No; 
you look in vain for popes or cardinals in the 
inspired Word of God. And what but the com- 
pletest ignorance arid superstition could tolerate 


58 The Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 


what is called the ceremony of the Mass ? A 
mass indeed it is of ridiculousness and folly, 
without a redeeming grain of sense Or intelligibility. 
What do the people know of or care for the bar- 
barous Latin that the priest mumbles over with a 
haste as if for dear life ? ‘ Do hurry up, and have 

done with it,’ said a priest to Martin Luther, who 
was saying Mass for the first time at St. Peter’s in 
Rome. That is the impression always conveyed 
by a priest saying Mass — he is ‘ hurrying up to 
have done with it.’ Then the monstrous doctrine 
of transubstantiation, contrary to all sense and 
reason. The idea is absurd that the bread and 
wine become changed in the hands of the priest 
into the real body and blood of our Lord Jesus 
Christ.” 

“ But that we do find in the Bible, Mr. Wells,” I 
ventured to remark. 

“ No, we do not, my child. It is true our 
Saviour said, ‘ This is my body, ’ ‘ This is my 
blood,’ but every one, not wilfully blind, can see 
that he spoke in a figurative way, which was a 
mode of expression often employed by him. Could 
not his disciples see for themselves that it was 7ioi 
his body nor his blood, for he stood visibly before 
them ; and would Christ say to them what it was 
impossible for them to believe ?” 

“ It would seem they must have understood him 
in a literal sense; for they marvelled greatly and 
questioned, and many went away, and ‘ walked no 
more with him.’ ” 


01'y Into the Light of Catholicity. 59 

“ We will not enter into an argument, if you 
please. In fact, Jhe question is so clear it admits 
of no argument. And I really must go ' now. 
Mrs. Lake, I am heartily rejoiced at this good 
resolution of yours. Hold fast to it ; and do not 
be troubling yourself with these intricate questions 
that concern graver heads. You have the truth, 
the whole truth ; and it will lead you to heaven if 
you but follow it unquestioningly.” 

I sat thinking after Mr. Wells’ departure of the 
sermon he had preached a few Sundays ago, in 
which he had referred to the chained Bibles. He 
also dwelt at considerable length, in the same dis- 
course, upon the slavery of conscience which was 
one of the features of that Bible-chaining church. 
“ Every person,” he said, “ should be allowed to 
think and judge for himself, especially upon so im- 
portant a subject as his eternal salvation.” But 
mamma and I, venturing to take a step in that 
direction, judging for ourselves, were warned that 
we were treading on dangerous ground. He had 
judged that Congregationalism — what a long word, 
almost equal to transubstantiation — was just the 
right thing for us ; and we had naught to do but to 
think it was. 

I spoke to mamma about this inconsistency of 
Mr. Wells. She thinks, however, that his theory is 
right ; that is, one of his theories — that we, being 
Congregation alists, should accept without question 
or dissent whatever our church teaches. And in 
like manner, she believes that Catherine, for 


6o The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

instance, should believe implicitly as she does all 
that her church teaches. In this she differs from 
her pastor; for, while mamma and I should rest 
quiet in believing, according to him Catherine 
should go on inquiring and judging for herself. I 
thought there was sound sense in her remark, that 
it was clearly the duty of every minister to preach 
the Gospel, and for every hearer to believe and 
obey. But if ministers differed as to what was 
Gospel and what was not, it could not be expected 
that people would be obedient to the church. I 
suggested that Protestantism should create a pope, 
tliat it should rally around him, kiss his toe, and 
promise obedience. Thus unity would be secured — 
and, with unity, what strides of progress might not 
Protestantism make ! 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 6i 


VI. 

OR a while I rather coincided with mamma, 
and strove to banish from my mind the 
questions that had so interested yet per- 
plexed me. I commenced reading aloud David 
Copperfield^ esteemed one of Dickens’ best, in which 
my attention became quite engaged. It often hap- 
pened, however, that when at the end of a chapter 
I paused to converse with mamma upon points of 
interest, as was my custom, she knew nothing what- 
ever of the subject. This was discouraging, and 
caused me to lose my own interest in the book. 
I felt convinced that, notwithstanding her earnest 
resolution to the contrary, her mind was still 
dwelling upon those subjects of discussion which 
we each had tacitly resolved to let alone. If I 
referred to them, however, she gave no*encourage- 
ment for pursuing them. But she was unusually 
silent and thoughtful. Poor ' Catherine ! I know 
not what she thought — she said nothing ; but I have 
been able to read from her face a sad disappoint- 
ment that we failed to grasp “ heaven’s golden thread 
of light.” Mamma becomes more and more attach- 
ed to her. Catherine anticipates her every want. 
I often wonder why, between our good Catherine 
and myself, who are both so devoted, she does not 
speedily recover — instead of which, for I cannot 




62 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

blind my eyes to the fact, she becomes gradually 
worse. From day to day the change is, perhaps, 
imperceptible; each month, however, marks an 
increased lassitude and emaciation. I am greatly 
alarmed, though Dr. Harris says I am foolishly so. 
He says there is no danger, and a few more weeks 
will bring her all right. God grant he may be cor- 
rect. He must be. I could not live without 
mamma. After one of her severe coughing spells, 
she surprised me one day by asking Catherine to 
go and get her prayer-book. 

“ Give it to Myrrha,” she said, when it was 
brought ; “ and, my child, read from it somewhere, 
anywhere.” 

By accident, or providentially, I opened to “ De- 
votions for the Sick.” 

“ ‘ Devotions for the Sick,’ ” I repeated ; “ perhaps 
that will be too gloomy and sad for you.” 

“ Read it — that is just what I want,” said poor 
mamma, with unusual animation. 

I read through the Devotions, including “ Litany 
for the Sick,” “Litany for a Happy Death,” 
etc. 

I had several times paused, that she might signify 
if she were wearied or wished me to discontinue. 
Each time she bade me go on, and when I had 
finished she said : 

“ Is that all — is there nothing more ?” 

“There are ‘Prayers for the Dead, mamma,” 
and I was frightened at the sepulchral tone of my 
own voice. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 63 

“ Well, read me ‘ Prayers for the Dead.’ It 
seems they don’t leave a friend or a Christian at 
the grave. They follow him to the throne of God 
with their prayers. And what do they say ?” 

I glanced at Catherine as I commenced. She 
had dropped her sewing, and wit*li folded hands 
was prepared to follow me. I think I never before 
experienced so solemn a feeling as while reading 
that “ Litany for the Dead.” My thoughts of the 
dead had been ever associated with the grave. 
Now, as I read, it seemed the whole upper air was 
filled with shades — silent shades, of which Virgil 
speaks. Mamma listened silently, but said nothing. 
Like Oliver Twist, however, her demand was for 
“ more,” until I had read every litany the book con- 
tained. At length the twilight fell, and the reading 
ceased. Catherine went out to prepare toast and 
tea, which had come' to be her nightly task to do 
for mamma, as in this province she could so excel 
Rachel, our kitchen-servant. 

“ Myrrha,” said mamma, “ come sit by me.” 

I flew to the ottoman at mamma’s feet. One 
thin hand she placed nervously in mine, the other 
she laid lovingly upon my head. 

“ Myrrha, dear child, I feel as if you are all that 
I have in this world. We seem recently to have 
exchanged places. You are naturally more self- 
reliant, more strong than I am; and latterly, as my 
physical weakness demapds your strength, so does 
my mind seek to repose upon, or, at least, to share 
its confidence with, your firmer mental organization 


64 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


and your more tnily perceptive nature. Every day 
I perceive how your father lives again in his child. 
In his judgment, in his opinions, in his uprightness 
of thought and action, I had the utmost confidence. 
I have the same in you, Myrrha, youthful and 
untried though you be. I depend more upon the 
correctness of your reason, of your judgment, than 
upon that of my own. This is the occasion of that 
silence which, for the last few weeks, has been 
between us. The great subject which of late has 
become so interesting to us appealed to your rea- 
son and to your intellect ; for me, it appealed to my 
heart, to my conscience. Not that I mean to say 
that your heart also was not affected ; but I under- 
stand you so well as to know that to no theories 
and no propositions will you give credit unless they 
command the assent of your reason. Let you be 
convinced of’ the truth by whatever means, and, 
however repugnant may be its reception or attend- 
ed with whatever inconveniences, you embrace it 
with all your heart. Let your father have been sur- 
prised by the new thoughts that have agitated you, 
and I. would have seen in him the same silent but 
determined convictions that dwell in your mind, 
my child.” 

I winced at this, her intuitive knowledge of my 
secret heart. I had thought it hidden from all but 
God. She continued : 

“ I was not ready to abandon the faith of years. 
My father’s and my husband’s faith ! I was not 
ready to be regarded by my little world of ac- 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 65 


quaintances as • a deluded mother, devoting herself 
and her child to the practices of superstition and 
idolatry. And, worse than all, to leave my circle 
of friendships for the society of strangers ! It 
seemed to me like treason — like deserting my camp 
and going over to the enemy ! No, I would never 
be so ungrateful, so false-hearted. These, Myrrha, 
are the objections which I have been revolving, 
accepting, and discarding. With you, your father’s 
child, such objections would not weigh. They 
would prove as naught in the balance, were you 
sure it was truth in the opposite scale. I feared 
this, your passion for the omnipotence of truth. I 
fought my battle alone; for you would but have 
made me victor on the wrong side. And yet, 
Myrrha, though weary in the contest, I cannot 
yield. With no chance of conquest, I feel less than 
ever like giving up. If God has heard my count- 
less prayers, he has not answered them. It is of 
my child I ask, What am I to do ?” 

Mamma’s voice closed almost inaudibly, for she 
had fallen to weeping. 

Dear mamma,” I cried, almost encircling her 
in my arms, “ do not be troubled. God is good. 
Where is your faith ? Are you not a Christian ? 
If you die, will you not go to heaven ? God does 
not require impossibilities. If we are not in the 
right way, it is not because we do not wish it with 
all our hearts. We find ourselves where we have 
been placed. We were brought up in the Pro- 
testant faith. If God chooses to show us our error. 


66 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

we must be willing to look at the light he holds 
out. We must wait his own good time; but I 
believe it is coming for you and for me. 

“ I have been thinking, mamma. In the dead 
of night I think continually. I have a fancy — only 
a fancy — you know, that dear papa’s spirit comes 
sometimes near me, and I feel almost a certainty 
of an encouragement from him that we are seeking 
the truth, and that we shall surely find it. I never 
used to think of papa, never dream of him ; but, 
since these new thoughts have taken possession of 
me, he seems to be near me to be cognizant of 
what I do and what I think. We must believe, 
mamma, if he so loved the truth, as you say, that, 
had it been presented to him, even faintly, as to us 
now, he would have accepted it with joy. Per- 
haps now he has learned it already ; perhaps it is 
through his love and care for us, and in answer to 
his prayers, that these books telling of the old faith 
have come in our way. I do not feel uneasy nor 
anxious, only for you. I have learned to love 
God, and to pray to him in a way I did not know 
before. I have learned to invoke the saints and 
angels, to beg the assistance of their prayers and 
intercessions, and it seems to open heaven anew to 
me, and to bring me into a kind of companionship 
with the spirits of ‘ the just made perfect.’ All this 
is not for me to sigh over, nor to repine against — 
no, I thank God rather, every hour of my life, and 
with every power of my being. With this com- 
munion between my soul and its God, what has 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 67 

the outside world to do ? Can it give me a better 
substitute ? But I weary you. Eat your toast 
and drink your tea. Catherine, bring toast and tea 
for me also, that mamma and I may eat together.” 

So mamma and I had our tea, and a nice time 
we had. I had not seen her so cheerful in a long 
time. Even while I joked and laughed with her, I 
was forming a plan for the future. I must sleep 
upon it, however, before venturing to unfold it to 
her most interested. 


68 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


VII. ' 

ELL, I slept upon my plan — waking more 
than sleeping, however. Mamma had 
been under the care of Dr. Harris more 
than a year, continually going from bad to worse. 
Was not a change of medical advisers to be advo- 
cated ? She was accustomed to the heated air of 
her one favorite room; would not a removal to 
other quarters prove beneficial ? For fifteen years 
she had sat under the “ droppings of the sanctuary,” 
as presided over by Mr. Wells, during which time 
her spiritual state had been in statu quo, far from 
satisfactory to herself, even before Catherine’s 
advent to our home. A change of spiritual advisers 
could not prove detrimental ; even Mr. Wells, 
good man as he was, could not but be sensible of 
this. 

Abner White, my mother’s uncle, and his wife. 
Aunt Ruth, resided at Charlestown, Mass. When I 
was a child, I had spent a year in their family with 
mamma. They had repeatedly visited us, together 
with other relations in our town, and had as often 
urged us to repay the visits. Now, by going to 
Uncle Abner’s, all the changes necessary for mam- 
ma’s restoration would be effected. Besides, 
Catherine had come from Charlestown, where her 
sister resided, and the trip could but be viewed 



oVy Into the Light of Catholicity. 69 

favorably by her. And then, there was a Catholic 
church there, and, of course, a Catholic priest ; and, 
in Catherine’s estimation, it was only the instruction 
of this important personage which was wanting to 
impart to us the full light of faith, and to make of 
us perfect Catholics. “ All under God,” she used 
to say, “ but God works by means of his priests.” 

AVith the real enthusiasm I felt, I unfolded to 
mamma this plan. I was not prepared for the 
opposition she made. Even in health she had 
been averse to leaving home. Her surroundings 
were all dear to her ; her birds and her flowers were 
a constant music and fragrance. As an invalid, 
especially should she remain at home, she urged. 
Abroad, she would be in everybody’s way, and 
everybody would be in her way. She would rest 
under the constant, harassing impression of being 
a burden and a trouble. 

‘‘ How can you say that, dear mamma,” I ex- 
postulated, “ when you know that dear Aunt Ruth is 
the most generous, unselfish woman in existence, 
and would like nothing so well as to give up her 
pleasant south room to you, where is the nicest bay- 
window overflowing with flowers most elegant ? 
Oh! I can see now the beautiful sunshine streaming 
in as though it loved to brighten up that spot above 
all others; it is just the place for you; you will re- 
vive there, and grow healthy and young again, I 
am confident. And Aunt Ruth is such a model 
housekeeper, and she does everything with such 
ease and quietness; nothing ever is a trouble to 


70 


The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 


her — least of all would you be, who always was her 
pet and favorite. She would give you such nice, 
delicate things to tempt your appetite, that you 
would really begin to eat again. As for Uncle Ab- 
ner, I am his pet, you know. I will answer for it I 
shall be welcome; nothing would delight him so 
much as our coming. And still more important, 
you could have such good medical advice, which I 
know you are much in need of; and then we could 
get plenty of books, mamma, that should tell us all 
about that dear old religion.” 

“ Perhaps you are not aware of it, Myrrha,” sa- 
gaciously remarked my mother; “but is not this 
last reason for a visit to Uncle Abner’s your strong- 
est and principal one ? Not that I do not know 
you to be disinterested as to its advantage to my 
health, but you too love home, Myrrha, and to 
such a degree that I doubt if this contemplated 
visit would ever have entered your head — ” 

“ Even admitting as much, which I am prepared 
neither to admit nor to deny, is not that of itself 
sufficient ?” 

My mother heaved a sigh. I continued : 

“ But I will not press the matter. Of course it is 
for y'ou only to decide. You can ask the opinions 
of Dr. Harris and Mr. Wells. I would not myself 
think it best to’ go against their advice, especially 
that of your physician. But it seemed to me a 
most excellent idea.” 

“ I am not always of the same mind,” observed 
mamma, “with regard to accepting publicly the 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. yi 

Catholic fafth. The truth is, I more often incline 
to the idea you once suggested, that it is better to 
entertain in our hearts these new devotions and 
doctrines, and not convulse our little world with the 
‘ nine days’ wonder ’ of forsaking the church of our 
fathers, and uniting with ‘ strange gods.’ The very 
idea comes over me sometimes like a shock, and 
my soul shrinks from it; I pray God to keep me 
from such a strange, unusual step. I say to myself, 
it is unnecessary, uncalled for, and what once I 
would have shrunk from with horror. How, I 
think, remembering my father, my husband — how 
could I subscribe to that ‘Profession of Faith’ 
which you have several times read to me ? ‘ This 

true Catholic faith, without which none can be 
saved,’ I do freely profess and sincerely hold — a 
faith condemned by the whole Protestant world.” 

“ Dear mamma,” I interfered, “ do not let us 
talk more upon that subject. It is too fatiguing ; 
it wearies you. If we are to know no more, we 
already know too much. If we are to know no 
more, is it not best to think about it no more ?” 

“ That is impossible. It has taken hold of me ; 
it will not let me go. Herein is my inconsistency, 
for I will not let it .go! O Myrrha, have pity upon 
your mother !” 

I was never so distressed. At the same time, I 
was never more convinced that my plan for going 
away was to be carried into effect. 


72 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


VIII. 



R. HARRIS listened attentively as I de- 
tailed our proposed visit. He honored 
me by a smile of decided approval, and 
by these flattering words : “ A wise little head, that 
of yours^a wise little head. I could not have made 
a better suggestion myself. In fact, I had thought 
change of scene would be advantageous to your 
mother, but as you were all women alone, I didn’t 
see how — but 1 forgot your Uncle Abner’s family — 
yes— yes, that is just the thing; and the sooner you 
are off, the better. Could you start by to-mor- 
row ?” 

By to-morrow ! What further confirmation need 
one have that Dr. Harris was an old, old bachelor ? 
If he wished to take a trip to Boston, he had but to 
think of it, jump upon the train, and be off. What 
did he know about the hundred and one things that 
two women, and one of them an invalid, wsls to 
think of, hunt up, or to have bought, made, 
washed, and done up, to be folded nicely away in 
trunks, one, two, three, perhaps four ? Plainly, 
just nothing at all. 

Mamma said she did not think we could be 
ready in. less than two weeks; she was for post- 
poning it as long as possible. I said I thought by 
extra exertion we might be able to go in a week. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 73 

Catherine, by her suggestion, proved herself to be 
the most anxious for our earliest departure. She 
and Rachel, she said, could accomplish the wash- 
ing and ironing the following day, should it prove 
sunny ; she and I could do the packing at night, 
and we might be ready on the day after to-morrow. 
If anything needed to be made new or remodelled, 
we could just as well do it after our arrival. 

Dr. Harris clapped his hands. 

“ Bravo !” he cried. “ Catherine carries the day. 
Remember now,” he said, departing, “ you are not 
to let me find you here after the day after to-mor- 
row. I will come and see you off. I am particu- 
larly anxious to see the last of you.” And, with this 
equivocal compliment, he laughingly disappeared. 

We sent for Mr. Wells the same afternoon. The 
doctor’s decided approval had so overcome mam- 
ma’s disinclination that I had only to announce to 
our pastor our intended visit. He did not enter 
into it with the same heartiness as had Dr. Harris. 
On the contrary, he raised objectior^s of various 
kinds, the most prominent of which was that he 
thought change of any kind might be injurious to 
mamma. Was Catherine to accompany us ? 
Certainly. He gave Catherine a searching look. 
Mr. Wells did not lack penetration. I could per- 
ceive that he was calculating the influence which 
might be brought to bear upon the state of our 
minds in a religious point. He made no allusion, 
however. On leaving, he signed for me to follow 
him into the hall. There he informed me that he 


74 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


had met Dr. Harris on his return from our house, 
from whom he had learned our intended visit. 

“ The reason, Myrrha,” he added, “ why I so 
strongly discountenanced it, was because I think it 
will do your mother no good, and may do her 
harm.” 

“ But Dr. Harris thinks it will do her good.” 

“ He may have told you so ; but he told me 
your mother was past hope ; that she Could not 
live two months !” 

I looked at Mr. Wells as I had never before 
looked at mortal man. I neither reeled nor fell. I 
stood upright, and had a sense of growth in strength 
and stature. In that one steadfast gaze, I divined 
the motive of that cruel thrust. He returned my 
look — he attempted to speak, but no sound came 
from his lips — he passed out, never knowing how 
deep, how rankling the stab he had given me. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 75 


IX. 

CH a cordial welcome as we received 
from Uncle Abner and that best of 
women, dear Aunt Ruth ! It brought 
tears from our eyes. 

“ What are you crying for ? Homesick already ? 
Ain’t sorry you’ve come ?” questioned the tender- 
hearted old gentleman, who, at sight of our tears, 
was obliged to wink his eyes violently, and to 
swallow something that seemed choking him. 

And here are we, mamma, Catherine, and I, 
domiciled in the well-remembered south room, 
which seems to me to be draperied with an invisi- 
ble net- work of gold and red — sunshine and hap- 
piness. As for sunshine, there is plenty of that ; 
and if only mamma would sit in it, and allow it to 
fall upon her in all its glory, I am sure it would 
have the effect of an invigorating path. She 
seems to avoid it, however, preferring her shawl 
and the gloomiest corner. 

The new doctor. Dr. Jordan, has ordered almost 
all the beautiful flowers to be removed — says they 
are not good for sick people. Mamma pleaded hard 
for a few that are now in blossom — narcissus, 
hyacinths, a heliotrope, and her favorite rose- 
geranium : these, with a frown though, the doctor 
allowed to remain. Mamma stood the journey 



76 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

bravely. Catherine — what cannot that girl do for 
invalids ? — arranged her so comfortably that she 
slept nearly the whole distance. I had a book in 
my satchel, Kirwan's Letters^ which Mr. Wells had 
handed us at parting with these words : that, “ to 
a mfnd unprejudiced, this little book would be suf- 
ficient to outweigh all that could be said in favor 
of that so-called church, which was really the Anti- 
Christ.” 

I had forgiven Mr. Wells for reporting to me Dr. 
Harris’ opinion in regard to mamma. Though he 
was not so sensitive as many, Mr. Wells was, or 
intended to be, thoroughly honest and truthful. I 
had no doubt that he reported correctly ; but why 
should he have reported at all ? Perhaps he con- 
ceived it to be really his bounden duty, at all 
hazards, to detain us where himself and his church 
should not be scandalized by a defection of one of 
its prominent members. And was not this his duty 
plainly? At all events, I forgave him, and the 
more freely in the prayerful hope that the sad 
prophecy might remain unfulfilled. I thanked him 
sincerely for the book, promising to • read it 
thoughtfully and with care. It was with the in- 
tention of having it for car-reading that I had 
placed it in my satchel— an intention frustrated, as 
will be seen. 

As Catherine was arranging double seats for 
mamma, I heard something drop on the floor; 
upon which I said to her to look down and see 
what she was treading upon. She did as directed. 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity, 77 


picking up a book somewhat soiled, and minus one 
cover, which, smiling, she handed over to me. I 
drew back, intending to refuse the forlorn and in- 
fected-looking volume, when the title-page caught 
my eye, and, je ne sais quoi, impelled me to re- 
ceive it. 

“ I would not handle it, it may have the small- 
pox,” said Catherine, who had not intended me to 
touch it. 

“ Questions of the Soul. By I. T. Hecker, New 
York : The Catholic Publication House.” 

As was my habit, I read the whole of the title- 
page. Opposite .was this verse : 

* All thou wouldst learn I will make clear to thee — 

No riddle upon my lips, but such straight words 
As friends should use to each otho^ when they talk.’ 

— Prometheus''* 

This was a Catholic book evidently. None 
other could come from a Catholic Publication 
House. Glancing at the brief Preface, it closed 
thus 

“ One thing we can truly say of the following 
sheets : they are not idle speculations. Our heart 
is in them, and our life’s results. That they may 
be a means to answer life’s problems to earnest 
souls is our only ambition. With this, knowing 
that truth is never spoken in vain, we send them 
forth.” 

To earnest souls !” Was not mine an earnest 
soul ? Through a mist of tears, I commenced 
reading over the table of contents. Then I turned 


78 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


back, and re-read. Contrary to my usual custom, 
I could not wait to begin at the beginning. “ Idea 
of the Church ” was Chapter XIII. I would first 
read there, and continue through “ Protestantism 
and the Church,” which formed the subject of the 
following chapters. 

I did not cease reading, however, at Chapters 
XIV. and XV. I became quite as much absorbed 
and forgetful of all else as when, in Catherine’s lit- 
tle room, I first read wonderingly and delightedly 
from her prayer-book. I forgot the cars, noisy, 
disagreeable; I forgot mamma and Catherine; I 
remembered nothing; was conscious of nothing, 
only of these sublime words that spoke such divine 
truths to my soul. I turned back more than once 
to look at, the author’s name. I repeated it over 
and over. It was new to me ; I had never heard 
it before. But it seemed to me I had known him, 
or he had known me; otherwise, how could he 
have spoken so aptly, so convincingly, of what I 
was inexpressibly longing to know ? Perhaps, I 
queried, he is a priest. The very one so much 
talked of by Catherine who would make every- 
thing so clear ! I shall have no need to listen now 
to a priest, I said, as I reached the “ Conclusion.” 
I can read this to mamma, and she will be quite 
convinced. 

With a glowing cheek and a swelling of the 
heart, as if in reality I belonged to her, I read 
once and again of the church upon the final 
page: 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity, 79 

“ The church is the ever youthful bride of Christ. 
She is as pure, as bright, as fresh as on the day of 
her birth. She can never fail. In her bosom are 
the inexhaustible sources of inspiration, strength, 
courage, holiness. 

“ ‘ Majesty, 

Power, glory, strength, and 

Beauty, all are aisled 

In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.’ ” 

I then had time to look at the soiled book as a 
whole. It had been badly used. It bore the 
marks of having been much read as .well as of 
abuse. Had it spoken to others as to me, or had 
its 'words been received with misgivings, incredu- 
lities, and positive misbeliefs } Quite likely. For I 
thought of Mr. Wells, and could well conceive that 
upon his mind it could make no impression. There 
are certain minds, like bullets run in a mould ; hard 
as a rock, without fissure or crevice. Even truth 
itself would roll down them, and slip oif like a drop 
of water, leaving no trace, much less an impress. 
Only the manufacturer can remodel and remould 
his w’ork. Sometimes, in his wisdom and infinite 
goodness, he melts the indurate metal, and ex- 
changes the involuntary ignorance and prejudice 
for light and truth. While thus reflecting, we had 
reached our journey’s end. In the confusion, I 
held tightly my precious book. At the last mo- 
ment, however, I recollected it, and remembered I 
ought to leave it. 'One moment, though, was too 
brief a time, in which to resolve to abandon one’s 


8o The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

treasure. The next moment was too late; and 
we found ourselves doing battle with the legion of 
hack-men, who shouted and brandished their whips, 
to our great discomfiture. So I reached Uncle 
Abner’s with my book, if not with peace of mind. 

The next day, however, I found I should have 
no more satisfaction in it. It had fallen in my way 
mysteriously, providentially. If the latest occu- 
pant of Catherine’s seat had carried it off as I had, 
I should not have been blest by the reading of it. 
If I had not borne it away, some other solitary 
traveller, perhaps some “ earnest soul,” might have 
found therein knowledge, comfort, and joy. It 
must go back. Accordingly, yesterday morning, 
I gave Catherine some money, with directions to go 
to a book-store and purchase a new volume ; after 
which, were she successful, to return the old one to 
the place whence I had taken it. She accomplish- 
ed both errands, waiting her time at the depot, and 
depositing the book upon the very seat whence it 
had dropped at her feet. I explained to her the 
nature of the book, and that, as I should read it 
aloud to mamma, she would have an opportunity 
of knowing what had so enchained my attention 
during our journey. She regarded this affair of 
the book as a miraculous sign of the intention of 
Heaven in our thorough conversion. 

She handed me the bright new book with mani- 
fest pleasure. 

“ That looks something like,” she said, 
‘Hhough we ought not really to despise homely 


or^ hito the Light of Catholicity. 8i 


things.” She continued : “ If you hadn’t looked 

inside of that dirty foundling in the cars, see how 
much you might have lost. You are very peculiar, 
Miss M)''rrha, very. You are not like any one 
else I ever knew. That is not saying I haven’t the 
greatest respect for you.” 

The following day was Sunday, and Catherine 
went to church with great pleasure. She was very 
anxious for me to accompany her. But I did not 
wish to go. I dreaded going for the first time, and 
was not ready. Besides, I was in the midst of 
reading to mamma Questions of the Soul. She was 
as deeply interested as I had been. She leaned 
back in her easy-chair, gazing at me intently, as if 
taking in the sense of the words through eye as 
well as ear. I had read during a portion of Satur- 
day — a little after noon of Sunday I had finished. 
Of course, this second reading occupied more time 
than my solitary perusal of the work had done, for 
the reason that at certain passages I stopped to 
discourse with iny listener. 

“ It seems very strange to me now,” said mam- 
ma, “ that I could ever have felt disposed to doubt 
or question the truths of what you have just read. 
Nor do I think I did. I knew nothing of what this 
book treats. I had no proper ideas of the church 
of God. I had studied neither Protestantism nor 
Catholicity. The former, as a whole, I accepted 
naturally as the air I breathed ; the latter I shrank 
from, as from fire that would burn and blight. But 
I have ail my life, felt the fearful vacuum in my 


82 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

nature which my religion could not fill ; the inces- 
sant, craving hunger which it could not satisfy ; the 
cruel doubts which it could not solve. Our author 
was a Protestant, he has known it all. If his 
expositions of Catholicity be correct, we shall find 
in that old faith a rest — a home. He found it ; he 
rejoices in it, why should not we ? A rest — a 
home! A rest on the rock Christ Jesus — a home 
in the church of the living God !” 

Poor, dear mamma, overcome by emotion, fell to 
Aveeping, as usual, violently. This brought on a 
severe coughing-spell, and soon, ah! me, blood 
flowed from her mouth ! I screamed, I shouted 
in consternation. Fortunately, Uncle Abner and 
Aunt Ruth were just entering the gate, on their 
return from the Methodist church. Uncle Abner 
ran for the physician, and Ruth for cold water and 
linen cloths. I stood fast by mamma, whose white 
face was like the face of the dead. Was this death ? 
I said, horrified. Was I about to lose the only 
friend the wide earth held for me, the only friend, 
excepting always Selwyn — dear, dear Selwyn ? 

Dr. Jordan, a positive, stern old gentleman, soon 
arrived, and, witnessing my nervousness, ordered me 
out of the room. Catherine had also arrived, and 
became much distressed at seeing mamma’s con- 
dition. 

There is no danger,” repeated the doctor, “if 
you will but be quiet. Women make matters so 
much worse. There, Mrs. White, you are steady- 
minded, steady-handed. I elect you my assistant.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 83 

Outside the door Catherine whispered : ‘‘ Your 
mother might die. She ought to have the priest. 
Let me go for him, Miss Myrrha ?” 

I was sobbing violently through fear and dread, 
not so much that mamma might die immediately, 
as that there might be no hope for her final re- 
covery. Catherine’s words turned my thoughts 
into a new channel. I recalled mamma’s last 
words, “ A home in the church of the living God !” 

AVhen Catherine after a minute again demand- 
ed, “ Shall I go ?” I bowed an assent. 

“ It was a slight attack — only a slight attack,” the 
doctor was affirming as I entered again the sick- 
room. “ With proper care, I do not anticipate a 
recurrence; but rest is necessary, and quiet — the 
utmost quiet. I will call in the morning. Good- 
day.” 

Why is it that doctors seem to carry away all the 
light, and leave only darkness in the sick-room ? 
Why lean we so, poor mortals, upon the frail arm 
of flesh, missing the divine support we have not 
faith to seek and find ? 


84 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


X. 


A was resting quietly upon the bed, 
eyes half-closed. She saw me, hovv- 
”, and put forth her hand. I pressed 
it in both my own, for it was chill, kissed her 
white lips, and knelt by her side. Uncle Abner 
leaned against the foot-board, his still moist eyes 
fastened upon the pallid face of his niece. Aunt 
Ruth was seeking rest in the easy-chair, her head 
lying against the back, her eyes closed. 

“ I am so happy, Myrrha,” at length mamma 
faintly whispered, “ I feel so wonderfully at rest. 
Yet it is*not the rest I was speaking of, that is yet 
to come, to you also as to me. What is that 
prayer that has this — it keeps running through my 
mind : ‘ I adore thee as my first beginning ; I 
aspire after thee as my last end — ’ ?” 

“Yes, mamma,” I said. “It is in the ‘Uni- 
versal Prayer.’ I know it by heart.” And I com- 
menced : “ ‘ O my God ! I believe in thee ; do 

thou strengthen my faith. All my hopes are in 
thee; do thou secure them. I love thee with my 
whole heart; teach me to love .thee daily more and 
more. I am sorry that I have offended thee; do 
thou increase my repentance.’ 

“ ‘ I adore thee as my first beginning ; I aspire 
after thee as my last end ; I give thee thanks as 



or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 85 

my constant benefactor; I invoke thee as my 
sovereign protector.’ 

“ ‘ Vouchsafe, O my God ! to conduct me by thy 
wisdom, to restrain me by thy justice, to comfort 
me by thy mercy, to defend me by thy power.’ ” 

I finished the whole of this comforting petition, 
this prayer “ For all things Necessary to Salvation.” 
At that moment I heard a step, and, glancing out- 
ward, my eye caught the tremble of a black robe near 
me. At the same instant, Catherine from behind 
touched my shoulder, and I arose upon my feet. 

‘‘ Father Burke, Miss Myrrha.” 

Recovering from my confusion, I regained 
presence of mind sufficient to introduce the stranger 
to mamma, also to uncle and aunt. At the mo- 
ment I gave no thought to the surprise and per- 
plexity which must have agitated our kind rela- 
tives. My whole anxiety was for mamma, lest she 
might not countenance the step I had taken. At 
the mention of Father Burke’s name, however, she 
half-raised her feeble eyes, and gave her hand in 
welcome. 

“You do not object, do you, mamma,” I said, 
“ because, when you were so very ill, I allowed 
Catherine to go for her — minister ?” 

Priest was a new word in my vocabulary, and I 
found I could not ^eak it, at least in the reverend 
presence. 

“ No, dear,” she whispered. Then speaking to 
him : “ But I fear I have troubled you to no pur- 
pose, I am not quite ready.” 


86 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

With a wave of the hand he dismissed her idea 
of the trouble; but before he could speak more 
than a word or two Uncle Abner had aroused 
himself from his stupor of astonishment. 

“ I do not know what all this means,” he said, 
in a voice that trembled with suppressed indigna- 
tion ; “ but this I do know, that the doctor’s orders 
were for her to be kept utterly quiet, and I protest 
against this direct opposition to his commands. 
Oi this I am confident, that, if my niece were in her 
right mind, she would have nothing to say to a man 
of your cloth, sir!” looking with eyes of fire at the 
dignified gentleman habited in black. 

Aunt Ruth flew to Uncle Abner, grasping him 
by the arm. 

For heaven’s sake, husband, don’t make mat- 
ters worse. You’ll be the death of poor Mary, if 
she gets excited, and has another attack I” 

“ It is not me that’ll be the death of her, then. 
Faith, I don’t know whether we are all in or out 
of the body. A strange pass it has come to when 
an emissary — a Catholic priest passes the thresh- 
old of my house with impunity! Mary, say but 
the word that it is not by your wish he is here, 
and by Judas he shall go out instanter!” 

He strode up to mamma’s bedside, and bent low 
to catch her words. I know not what they were, 
but with a face of flame and an iron tread he left 
the room. Aunt Ruth gently followed; the dis- 
cordant elements were gone. Mamma essayed to 
speak to the priest, but he anticipated her. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 87 

“It is better for you,” he said, “ to make no 
effort at conversation. In a day or two you will 
have recovered strength, and I might call again, 
when should you wish it. Perhaps I can learn from 
your daughter all it is necessary for me to know.” 

Mamma beckoned me to draw near. 

“ Tell him all,” she said ; “ and sit so near me 
that I may hear without effort.” I drew an ottoman 
by the bedside, and with mamma’s hand in mine was 
ready to speak, yet speak I could not. I felt sin- 
gularly embarrassed in presence of this reverend 
stranger, whose odd black gown seemed to fill all 
the room. “ I wish I had never sent for him,” I 
said mentally, as the awkwardness of the silence 
increased, and became still further augmented by a 
mental flash of the storm that was to follow his de- 
parture, in a reckoning with uncle and aunt. 

Father Burke relieved me by saying kindly : 

‘‘ You need only state to me how long a time 
you have been seeking these ways new to you, 
what first drew your attention to them, what prog- 
ress you have made, that I may see now where you 
stand.” 

I glanced upward at Catherine, who was stand- 
ing on the other side. 

“ It was all through Catherine, our good Cather- 
ine,” I found voice to say. And looking at her, 
the memory of her as she said her rosary on that 
eventful night came back to me. That was the 
beginning, and there I commenced my story for 
Father Burke. In perhaps half an hour it was 


88 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


done, finished by a repetition of mamma’s words 
at the conclusion of Hecker’s Questions of the Soul. 

Father Burke did not once interrupt me, nor 
was I so much disconcerted ; for as I more than 
once glanced at him, he seemed to be pay- 
ing no attention whatever, but rather to be studying 
intently a vase of flowers that crowned the highest 
shelf of the whatnot. 

“ A singular conversion,” he said at length, rais- 
ing his eyes to the ceiling, and letting them drop 
again upon the vase of flowers. “ But God works 
in his own mysterious ways. And you, both 
mother and daughter, have especial reason to es- 
teem yourselves as highly favored of God. You 
cannot, probably, in the course of your life, eitlier 
of you, recall to mind any good or worthiness of 
your own by which you have merited the peculiar 
graces God has given you. It is the work of 
God — it is marvellous in our eyes. Yet he calls 
but his own ; and you, thrice happy are you that 
you heeded his call.” 

“ There are various questions which mamma 
washes to ask you, and some things .upon w'hich she 
wishes explanations, before — before — ” 

“ Yes, I understand. I will cheerfully give you 
all the information possible at my next visit, when 
your mother is able to converse.” Mamma pressed 
my hand. 

“ Tell him,” said she, “ about the theory and 
practice.” 

I believe, sir, mamma has some little fear lest 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 89 


the theory of the Catholic religion prove more 
beautiful than the practice. This is what her pas- 
tor warned her. He assured her that, if she should 
go into the Catholic Church, she would be glad to 
get out of it before two years.” 

“ That is contrary to the experience of converts. 
Of course you must first believe when you go into 
the church that it is indeed the church of Jesus 
Christ — that there is no other. You must believe 
that its Divine Founder gave unto it the Spirit of 
truth, therefore that it cannot err; that it has 
stood through almost nineteen centuries, surviving 
schism and heresies that outgrew and threatened to 
overcome it; and that it will stand, according to the 
promise, until the consummation of the world. 
Firmly grounded in this faith, the teachings and 
practices of t.he church will become more and more 
dear to you. To the lover of Jesus, what so sweet 
as to do his will, in the way he has appointed ! To 
the soul who has not abandoned his pride and 
love of the world, the rules of the church may, nay, 
must, become wearisome and oppressive. For the 
worldling cannot serve two masters; he will flee 
the church. Neither can the Christian serve two 
masters ; he will cleave to the church and flee the 
world. If the supreme wish of one’s heart be to 
follow his Saviour, he will not be appalled or dis- 
heartened by the crosses and self-denials he meets, 
he will the rather embrace and endure them joy- 
fully for the love of God, and for the good of his 
soul.” 


90 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


He arose as he finished speaking, and came 
nearer to mamma. I abandoned my seat, going 
around to Catherine, and with her assumed the 
attitude of kneeling, following the example of the 
priest, who, with folded hands uplifted, commenced 
the Lord’s Prayer, to which he added the Hail 
Mary. This was the first time I had ever heard 
the Hail Mary repeated. 

“ Do you have any reluctance to pray to the 
Blessed Virgin ?” enquired Father Burke, as he 
arose from his knees. 

‘‘ I believe I have, sir,” answered mamma 
faintly. “ I have never thought about it, however. 
That is one of the points in your religion which I 
would like to have explained.” 

“ Very well. When shall I come again ?” 

“ I am never very well of mornings. If it is 
convenient for you, early in the afternoon of to- 
morrow. Would you please read for me now that 
prayer for the sick — •' O my God, I bow down with 
my whole soul to adore thee in all thy appoint- 
ments ’ ? ” 

Mamma closed her eyes after the priest left, and 
fell into a quiet sleep without having spoken. I 
began to think of uncle and aunt, and my thoughts 
produced anything but a comfortable state of 
mind. We were guests in their house, and though 
this was a free country, as was often Uncle Abner’s 
boast, yet I felt an explanation was due them for 
the unheard-of liberty of introducing one from the 
kingdom of Antichrist into the house of a good 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 91 

Christian Methodist — a Methodist who had danced 
for joy when the brand of an incendiary mob had 
kindled into flames the Ursuline Convent — a 
Methodist, sincere and honest too, who had de- 
clared it to be a pity that the cloistered inmates 
had not been reduced to ashes with the fated dwell- 
ing. Of what avail could be any word of mine 
against this iron coat-of-mail — this armor of preju- 
dice ? 

I found Aunt Ruth reading her Bible, while 
Uncle Abner was walking up and down the floor, 
his head slightly bent, his hands crossed behind 
him, his thumbs twirling one with the other. I 
went straight up to him, because I knew he would 
be more difficult to deal with than his wife. 

“ Dear uncle,” I said, intercepting his rapid 
pacing by deliberately facing him, “we. are so 
sorry, mamma and I, to have hurt your feelings as 
we have done to-day. We should soon have in- 
formed you of the change in our religious views, 
and consulted both yourself and Aunt Ruth, but 
you see mamma’s very sudden attack so shocked 
and alarmed us, there was no time. I knew that 
if mamma thought she was going to die, she would 
wish — she would wish — ” 

I broke down here and could go no further. 
Uncle Abner was one of those who cannot stand 
tears. 

“ Never mind, Myrrha, child. I see how it is ; 
but the good Lord help me if I can see how it 
ever came to pass. I can’t believe it. I’m tempted 


92 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

to fight with my own -eyes and ears. The devil 
has bewitched you, or he has brought into my 
house a couple of witches in the shape of Mary 
and her child. Oh ! the Lord knows I had rather 
seen two coffins brought into the south room, and 
seen poor Mary and Myrrha laid away decently 
and honorably. O Lord ! O good Lord!” And 
poor LFncle Abner broke into sobs with these last 
ejaculations. Aunt Ruth laid away her Bible, and, 
going to her husband, put her arm tenderly about 
his neck. Trying to steady her own trembling 
voice, she said, “ Don’t, Abner, don’t, dear. It 
cannot be helped. It might even be worse.” 

“ How worse, Ruth, how worse ?” 

“ We are getting old in years, Abner. I was 
thinking in church this forenoon that it is forty-one 
years tp-day since we were married. I thought what 
happy years they had been, and how few probably 
were left for us to spend together. Would it not 
be worse for you, husband, if I were gone, or for 
me if — if — ” 'She could not speak the dreadful 
alternative, and her tears with uncle’s flowed down 
together upon their clasped hands ; for dear 
Uncle Abner had drawn Aunt Ruth around and 
seated her upon his knee, and they leaned their 
poor sad heads together, and cried in sympathy. 

Dear uncle and aunt ! I shall never forget the 
picture they formed, nor the feeling , of kindness 
and reverence they awoke in my heart. As they 
never had children to share their love, or to divide 
it, it seemed they became all the more endeared to 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 93 

one another, and Aunt Ruth’s heart was so gentle 
and kind she had made Uncle’s Abner’s, naturally 
rude and rough, almost as tender as her own. I 
made a movement as if for departure. 

“ Come here, my little girl,” said uncle, putting 
out his hand to me. “ I wouldn’t hurt you for the 
world. Don’t feel sorry for what I’ve said ; I’m a 
cross old bear at best ; don’t know what would be- 
come of me if I hadn’t Ruth here to tame me. Well- 
nigh incorrigible, to be so wild after forty years’ 
training — eh, Ruth ? Some day, Myrrha, when I get 
a little used to it, you must tell me all about it. 
By Mars ! it passes all comprehension.” 

If you only knew about that religion,” I ventur- 
ed. 

“ Knew about it !” And he rolled off Aunt Ruth 
from his knee, and gesticulated with both hands. 
“ Don’t I know about it ? What do you know about 
it ? — poor little innocent, born and raised up among 
the mountains of New Hampshire — God bless ’em ! 
Don’t the Bible itself tell us that the Catholic 
Church is the kingdom of Antichrist — the syna- 
gogue of Satan ? ’ 

“ If you please, uncle, I don’t find the word 
Catholic in the Bible.” 

“ No, that you don’t. Well observed, my little 
lady. Because there was no Catholic Church in 
Bible times. That was an afterthought, an inven- 
tion of Satan, devised as an offset and a decoy to 
the true church. That is why it has always manifested 
so fierce and cruel a spirit. To cut off Christians’ 


94 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


heads, to bum and torture Christians’ bodies, that 
has been its chief sport. If it had the power here 
to-day, Myrrha, just as sure as your name is Myrrha 
Lake, every one of us Protestants would be butch- 
ered in cold blood.” 

“ No, no, uncle,” I said with a shudder. 

“ Why do you say ‘ No, no, uncle ?’ ” he demand- 
ed. 

“ Because it is so contrary to every word and 
spirit of its religion.” 

“ Its religion ! It hasn’t any. Like its master, it 
goes about a roaring lion, seeking whom it may de- 
vour. And you, poor little Red Riding-hood — alas I 
I could weep tears of blood that it has met you in its 
way.” 

“ But if I rejoice, uncle ?” 

‘‘ Brief will be the day of your rejoicing. It is 
for your sake I grieve and lament. It will be 
all very nice for awhile — they are very shrewd, mas- 
ters of cunning ; but let Popery get a good hold of 
you, and there is no getting out of her clutches, 
neither for soul nor body. Why, child, you’ll be tuck- 
ed into a convent the first you’ll know, and the key 
will never be turned for you to come out. Just let 
me see the convent that holds kith or kin of mine 
— another Ursuline should go into ashes.” 

I had been revolving a scheme, a bold scheme, 
for this fierce Protestant’s conversion. Hopeless it 
might prove, but the difficulty was to blind him as 
to the first steps. I began ; 

“ If my danger is, so great, why do you not seek 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 95 

to avert it ? You are famous as a Methodist exhort- 
er and an expounder of Scripture. Why do you 
not attempt to convince me that these new ideas 
of mine are errors ?” 

“ If you have gone so far as to send for the priest 
the minute you are sick, your case is pretty near 
hopeless. You must be already reckoned among 
those whom God gave up to a reprobate mind, that 
they might believe lies and be damned.” 

“ But you mig:ht try. Isn’t it your duty ? Now, 
all that mamma and I have learned of the Catho- 
lic religion is from books.' There are some points 
which we do not understand. To explain these, the 
priest is coming to-morrow. Suppose, now, you 
come in and hear what he will have to say.” 

“ No, Myrrha Lake, I don’t sit down at the age 
of nearly threescore and ten to learn my religion at 
the feet of a Catholic priest. I was born a Meth- 
odist — a Methodist, by the help of God, I will die.” 

“ But, my dear uncle,” I said, disguising my real 
object, or rather tacitly making it to appear a self- 
concern which I did not really feel, “ if you will not 
be present for your own sake, which I cannot hope, 
at least ought you not, in spite of your scruples and 
repugnance, be present for the sake of mamma and 
myself? You are so much older, more experienced, 
more versed in Scripture, more capable of combat- 
ing wily or specious arguments — in fact, you can 
be our champion, our defender, perhaps our deliv- 
erer from pernicious doctrines. We are two weak 
women, one an invalid, the other — ” 


96 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


“ It couldn’t do you any harm, Abner,” broke in 
Aunt Ruth, “ and it might do Mary and Myrrha a 
vast deal of good.” 

“ But I don’t like the idea of talking with one of 
these dark-looking priests. I can argue with brother 
Baxter and brother Biggs, and the like of them, 
but there’s .no knowing what tactics this follower of 
Antichrist will turn to and make use of. If the Evil 
One is his master, I shall be no match for him.” 

“ But you are on the side of the dear Lord Jesus,” 
suggested Aunt Ruth. Her husband did not reply. 
Perhaps he was trying to remember if ever, in any 
one case of argument, he had even seemed to re- 
ceive divine assistance. I do not know what were 
his thoughts, but his silence argued favorably. 

“ I have heard said,” he at length resumed, 
“ that these priests have a kind of power — a witch- 
work like — to make black appear white, and white 
black. It’s best for folks to keep out of their 
reach.” 

“You could judge for yourself as to that, if you 
will but give yourself the opportunity. For our 
sakes, you know, dear uncle, Aunt Ruth would, of 
course, be present if you would.” 

I arose to go back to mamma. 

“ I’ll think of it, and sleep oh it, and pray over 
it. It will go awfully against the grain, but may be 
it’s my duty.” 

There will be one good thing gained if uncle 
will but accede to my wish. He will get rid, at 
least, of some of his prejudice, and I shall have 


ory Into the Light of Catholicity, 97 

accomplished a Christian duty. I will ask Cathe- 
rine to pray for him. The great hope, the great 
prayer of my heart is for mamma, for her health, 
for her life. 


98 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


XI. 

NCLE seemed quite gay and happy at 
breakfast. 

“I have been fighting away at your 
priest, Myrrha, all night, both sleeping and waking. 
I conquered him, too. I assure you, I completely 
floored him, and he crept away from me in the 
form of a serpent, which I’ve no doubt he really is. 
He couldn’t begin to answer my questions, ha — 
I am not afraid of him — I’ll tackle him — I’ll show 
this Bible-burner what my good old Methodist 
Bible teaches ! You shall see, Myrrha, that he 
won’t be able to hold a candle to my arguments — 
the pretender, the impostor, the hypocrite — you 
shall see !” 

And I have seen. 

Mamma rested well, and was much better this 
morning. For myself, I had a restless night. The 
shadow of a great grief coming hovered around 
me. . It weighed upon my prayers and aspirations — 
it shut out all the brightness of the world. The 
light of day, however, and the sight of mamma’s 
more cheerful face, somewhat lightened my heart. 

While Catherine w'as doing up mamma’s long 
beautiful hair, I sat on an ottoman by her feet, 
chafing her delicate hands with my palm. 

“Isn’t it strange,” I said to Catherine, “that 



oVy Into tlie Light of Catholicity, 99 

your minister did not appear to notice, in the least, 
uncle’s rudeness yesterday ? I should have sup- 
posed it would so offend him that he would never 
be willing to enter the house again.” 

“ Oh ! no, our priests are above taking offence at 
such things. They are used to them. They ex- 
pect them. They wouldn’t be priests of God if 
they didn’t know how to suffer patiently the insults 
of the world, and the hard words of heretics. And 
as to not coming again, you may depend upon it 
that neither fire nor water would keep Father 
Burke from his duty of bringing two stray sheep 
into the fold, if he once knew they were seeking the 
way and wanted to come. They are sworn to do 
God’s work, let what will come. They are al- 
ways ready to brave death itself — it isn’t likely, 
then, that they are going to be afraid of a few hot 
words.” 

I looked up at the speaker. 

“ Catherine, would you be a martyr for your reli- 
gion— would you die rather than to give it up ?” 

“ By the help of God I would,” she said energeti- 
cally. “ What would it matter in heaven that my 
earthly life had been shortened by a few years ? 
You do not know. Miss Myrrha, how I love the 
names of those who wear now in heaven their 
crowns of martyrdom.” 

“ I begin to fear that I have done wrong,” I said, 
proceeding to unfold to mamma and Catherine the 
plan I had arranged of having uncle present at the 
time of Father Burke’s visit. 


ICO The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


They were both surprised, and fearful of the 
result. 

“ I believe I should not have ventured to pro- 
pose such a thing had not uncle been in such a 
tender, melting mood. It occurred to me that if, 
in such a frame of mind, he could listen to some 
good Catholic truths, he might be divested of some 
of his bitter prejudice, even though he might fail to 
be convinced himself. But if he should be at all 
rude and boisterous as he was yesterday, I should 
think I had been the greatest little idiot in the world. 
What think you, mamma ?” 

“ About your being a ‘ little idiot ’ ? I should 
say yes did I not remember that, on many occa- 
sions when I have honestly thought thus of you, 
I had reason before the end to think otherwise. 
Though it looks dubious, I still hope that in this 
case I may have to say of you also, ‘ Wise as a 
serpent, harmless as a dove.’ Don’t you think,” 
addressing Catherine, “ that we ought to apprise 
your pastor of what he may have to expect ?” 

“ I don’t know, perhaps so.” 

“ Write a note, Myrrha, and let Catherine take 
it over. There will be no opportunity after he 
comes for an explanation.” 

This done, I rested better in my mind, and after 
reading prayers I read to mamma from St. Paul’s 
Epistles until the bell rang for dinner. 

During all the morning, Uncle Abner had been 
diligently fortifying himself by means of his Bible, 
Concordance, and Barnes' Notes. 


or^ hito the Light of -Catholicity. loi 

Anticipating his hour, he began to speak to me 
of the delusions, deceits, and snares of Popery, 
when, becoming alarmed, I ventured to say : 

“ I trust, dear uncle, since you are so sure of a 
victory, that before you wield your battle-axe so 
powerfully, you will be kind enough to allow the 
priest to have the first of the argument ; and please, 
for mamma’s sake, don’t say anything rude. You 
can be such a gentleman, if you will; and you 
know, in argument, those only become angry and 
abusive who are forced to see the weakness of their 
cause.” 

“ Trust your old uncle, Myrrha, this time. If 
you look for anybody to get mad, you will have to 
turn your eyes on that black-gowned priest of 
yours. I guess the house will be as much too hot 
for him as it was yesterday too cold — ha, ha !” 

After he left the table I said aside to Aunt 
Ruth : 

“ You will be sure to come in with your sewing 
and sit near to uncle, won’t you ?” 

“ Yes, honey ; that is why I have been so busy 
all the morning — scarcely been in to see poor 
Mary, the dear; she looks quite pert; had no 
thought she could picked up so since such a spell 
as that of yesterday. Don’t trouble yourself, 
Myrrha; your uncle has promised me, and he 
always keeps his promise.” 

No need of looking out for Aunt Ruth. She is 
always full of thought, care, and kindness for every 
one. She never speaks that I do not say over 


102 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


and over to myself, “ That is a dear, sweet Aunt 
Ruth !” 

Mamma ate an unusual amount of dinner, 
chicken, toast, and jelly. After the remains were 
cleared away, and she leaned back in her easy- 
chair, she appeared brighter and better than for 
many a day. 

‘‘ I shall not be alarmed at a haemorrhage if it 
leaves me so much better,” she said cheerfully, 
half-raising the paralytic lids of eyes that had been 
beautiful. 

I was in a flutter of delight at her unusual bright- 
ness. 

“ She will recover, she will live long, and you 
will yet be happy,” Hope said to me. 

How often, the night previous, had I repeated 
the words of the poet: “The setting of a great 
hope is like the setting of the sun.” 

Early after dinner came Father Burke. 

We were very glad to see him, in fact, we were 
prepared to hail him as a messenger of light, but 
this we could not evince ; for he was so distant, so 
dignified, so cold, although so courteous in manner, 
that we felt constrained and diffident in his presence. 
I am sure mamma felt this with me at first, though 
she is one who can soon put herself at ease under 
any circumstances. For myself, I should not have 
felt more in awe of the Grand Mogul ; and I secretly 
congratulated myself that mamma was to-day able 
to talk, and I could be simply an observer and 
listener. 


orj Into the Light of Catholicity. 103 

He expressed surprise and gratification at mam- 
ma’s improved condition, and laid upon the table 
several volumes which he had brought. These he 
took up one by one, reading the titles, and bestow- 
ing upon them severally some remarks. 

“ Here is a work by Cardinal Wiseman on the 
Holy Eucharist. This is no doubt one of the sub- 
jects upon which your mind is not fully settled ?’’ 
looking questioningly at mamma. 

“It is,” she said. “Indeed, that seems to me 
the most difficult of faith of any in your church. 
Transubstantiation is a hard word to me, an almost 
impossible w'ord ! I should say I shall never be- 
lieve it, were I not learning to believe so much that 
is new that I feel willing to say of whatever may 
be God’s truth, ^ I believe— help thou mine unbe- 
lief.’ ” 

“ I think, madam, you will not only learn to 
believe this blessed doctrine, but to wonder and 
regret that you have not always believed it. 
Though the words of our Lord are so plain, ‘ This 
is my body,’ ‘ This is my blood,’ that it seems to 
a believer difficult of misconception, yet as it is by 
solne, even learned persons interpreted figuratively, 
many books have been written upon it. This work 
of Cardinal Wiseman’s is learned, clear, and diffu- 
sive. In truth, it exhausts the subject. These 
little volumes, Clijfton Tracts^ though simple, are 
comprehensive, full of instruction, and imbued wfith 
the spirit of Christian charity. Milner’s Efid of 
Controversy^ thougli an old work, goes over the 


104 Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

whole ground. Weninger’s Catholicity, Protestantisfn, 
and J7ijidelity is written expressly for candid Ameri- 
cans — a plain, concise, and unanswerable appeal.” 

At this moment entered Aunt Ruth, . sewing- 
basket in hand, followed by the portly form and 
red face of Uncle Abner. 

Each bowed to his reverence; and uncle even 
graciously entered upon an apology for his yester- 
day’s behavior. 

‘‘ You see, sir, I was quite taken by surprise. I 
am rough sometimes — rough as a bear, then I for- 
get that I am a Christian. I am an old man, and 
ought to know better, but you must excuse me.” 

“ Excuse you !” said Father Burke heartily, com- 
ing across the room and giving his hand ; “ most 
certainly, nothing shall be remembered but your 
kindness of to-day.” 

My heart gave a great bound. Surely a gulf had 
been passed. 

“ If you have no objections,” said uncle, much 
mollified, “ I would like to hear what you have to 
say about your religion. My niece and her 
daughter seem to have taken such a liking to it 
that, if one thing can be said in its favor, I should 
like to hear it.” 

“ Very glad to have you, if it be your wish. It is 
but little, however, that I can say in the limited 
time I have to spend to-day. During the week, I 
may be able to spend a portion of another after- 
noon in the further instruction of those ladies, or, 
at least, send some one in my place. Meantime, it 


cVy Into the Light of Catholicity, 105 

will do you no harm to glance at some books I 
have brought. You know, Mr. White, if one 
already has the truth, he need not fear losing it by 
simply acquainting himself with what another con- 
ceives to be truth. By the comparison his own 
may become to him dearer and clearer. What 
Catholic books have you ever read, sir ?” 

The sturdy Methodist looked steadily into the 
face of this representative upholder of Satan’s king- 
dom upon earth, and answered boldly, as if expect- 
ing him to wither at his words : “ Fox's Book of 
Martyrs^ Maria Monk, Six Months in a Cojivent, Ro~ 
manism at Home, Priest and Nun, Almost a Priest, 
Almost — ” 

“ I beg your pardon,” interrupted the priest, 
endeavoring vainly to smother a smile ; “ those are 
not Catholic books ; those are the most thoroughly 
Protestant books in the world !” 

Uncle’s face grew a tinge more red. He was 
successful in conquering his wrath, and there came 
no explosion. Before he could command his voice, 
the priest continued : 

“Who do you suppose write Catholic books. 
Catholics or Protestants ?” 

“ Why, Catholics ought to write their own books, 
I should think.” 

“ Exactly ; and do you think a Catholic would 
write any one of those books you have mention- 
ed ?” 

“He might, if they were true. History don’t 


lie.* 


io6 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

“ Did you ever, in reading those books, pause 
for a moment to enquire if they might not be 
false ?” 

“ No; I believe I never did.” 

You took them for gospel truth. Yet were they 
works of fiction the most damnable ever written. 
Through ignorance, hatred, and malice, written for 
gain and notoriety. Would a Protestant write a 
book so condemnatory of his sect ? Not sooner 
would a Catholic. You did' not stop to think about 
it. Had you done so, in a Christian spirit, you 
could but have seen the inconsistency of ascribing 
to the largest class of Christians on earth vices at 
which the world shudders. The Catholic has faith 
in God, in the blessed Trinity, in a risen Saviour, in 
a judgment to come, in heaven, in hell. Why, then, 
may it not be supposed that he should fear to do 
evil, and learn to do good ?” 

‘‘ How can your people know how to do good, 
or how to shun evil, since they know nothing about 
the Bible ? It is enough for me to know about the 
Catholic Church to know that the priests don’t 
allow the common people God’s holy Word !” 

“ Are you sure that that is the case ?” 

‘^Sure! Of course, everybody knows it. No- 
body pretends to deny it.” 

“ I beg leave to speak,” said my mother. “ My 
good Catherine has been always a Catholic. She 
has a Bible that was her mother’s, given to that 
mother by an uncle who was a priest in Ireland, 
the land of Catholics.” 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 107 


The church, Mrs. Lake,” said Father Burke, 
“ is the interpreter of Scripture. She recommends 
the reading of the Holy Scriptures, but she dis- 
allows private interpretation. It is this liberty of 
private judgment that has multiplied sects inde- 
finitely. The church is older than the New Testa- 
ment. Our Saviour taught his doctrine by word 
of mouth. He nowhere commanded a written 
word. He said to his Apostles, ‘ Go ye into all 
the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature.’ 
We find no precept given to the Apostles to dis- 
seminate the Scriptures,- after having them translat- 
ed into all languages. No intimation is ever given 
therein of the duty of ministers to provide copies of 
the sacred volume for those whom they are bound 
to instruct. If this dissemination of the written 
word was and is an essential part of Christianity, 
and if in Scripture alone is to be found the rule and 
criterion of all that is essential, how comes this 
important provision to be there omitted ?” 

Uncle Abner ventured to speak; 

‘‘ Our Lord plainly says : ‘ Search the Scriptures : 
for in them ye think ye have eternal life.’ ” 

“ Yes, truly he does. To whom does he 
speak? To the Jews, who were to find in 
Scripture the prophecies of the Messiah. What 
Scriptures does he mean ? Clearly the old, for 
the new was not then written. It happened 
that, as churches increased, divisions arose, and 
as it was not always convenient for the Apos- 
tles to adjust difficulties in person, they wrote 


io8 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

epistles containing doctrine, reproof, exhortation, 
etc. These, after the lapse of many years, were 
collected together, and with the Gospels form what 
is since called the New Testament. Had they, 
however, been intended for the rule of faith of the 
church, would not such a specification have been some- 
where hinted at ? On the contrary, the church was 
first formed, taught, governed. The epistles, writ- 
ten by inspiration, refer only to these teachings, 
rules, and practices. They do not profess to teach 
the church — the church, through them, is reiterating 
certain of her counsels to her children. Had our 
Lord intended the Holy Scriptures to be every indi- 
vidual Christian’s rule of faith, would he not have 
provided a way by which the mass of Christians 
could have become singly acquainted with it ? 
How many of the poor and ignorant early Chris- 
tians ever looked upon the inspired manuscripts ? 
To whom was it given to teach and to preach? 
Clearly, to the ministers of the church Who was 
to listen, receive, and obey ? Clearly, the mem- 
bers of the church. For St. Paul expressly declares, 
‘ Whosoever will not hear the church, let him be 
unto thee as the heathen and publican.’ Elsewhere 
he declares the church to be ‘ the pillar and the 
ground of truth.’ ” 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 109 


XII. 

T all events, parson,” broke in the atten- 
tive Methodist, the Bible will do for 
me.” 

“ You think so, doubtless. It may do for you. 
But what did it do for the vast multitude of Chris- 
tians who lived during the fourteen centuries before 
the art of printing ? Not one in hundreds could read 
and write, much less read writing. You forget that 
all the Holy Scriptures, every volume, was written 
by hand, and required the labor of years for its 
transcription. You pay a dollar for your Bible, 
without even thinking that during so many hundred 
years a Bible would have cost many hundreds of 
dollars, much more than most Christians were worth. 
A Bible was so precious in those days that it was 
sometimes chained to a desk in the church or 
monastery to prevent its being stolen or misused.” 

“ You don’t say that is the reason that they used 
to chain Bibles ?” quoth Uncle Abner, with very 
large, earnest eyes. 

“ The sole reason. They chained Bibles to keep 
and preserve them. If you have a precious treasure 
in your house, you guard it with care, particularly 
if your house is obliged to be open to the world, as 
was the case with the monasteries, which were the 



no The Heart of My rr ha Lake ; 

principal depositories of the Holy Scriptures. You 
see now why the common people could not have a 
copy of them. They were not only utterly unable to 
purchase them, but equally so to read them. Can 
you not see the injustice of charging the church 
with keeping from the people the Word of God ?” 

Uncle Abner was becoming interested ; he spoke 
again. 

“ How is it, though, about your burning the 
Bible ?” 

“ Do you remember that it says somewhere in 
your ‘ Good Book,’ Whosoever addeth to or taketh 
from, let him be accursed ?” 

“ Yes ; and whoever burns it, what ought to be- 
come of him ?” 

“ Can you tell me how long a time has elapsed 
since your Reformation ?” 

“ Something considerable over three hundred 
years, I believe.” 

“ And how long since Jesus Christ founded his 
church ?” 

“ Why, I believe we are living in the nineteenth 
century.” 

“ What do you suppose became of the Bible dur- 
ing the other fifteen centuries ?” 

“ I suppose God had it hidden aw^ay somewhere. 
He would not suffer his holy Word to be destroy- 
ed.” 

“ No ; he would not suffer it to perish. But it was 
preserved by Catholic hands, in Catholic hearts. 
Many and many a noble Catholic Christian, in an- 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity . in 

swer to the demand of the messenger of some cruel 
emperor to give up his Bible or his life, replied fear- 
lessly, ‘ God’s Word have I hidden where you cannot 
find it; here is my life, take it.’ You will find in 
one of these little books,” taking up one of the 
Cliff ton Tracis^ “ instances of this kind : ‘ St. Felix 
preferred to meet death by falling upon the sword 
rather than to betray the hiding-place of his precious 
book of God. At each anniversary of his martyr- 
dom, October 29, every Catholic remembers and 
honors him.’ What Protestant has even heard of 
St. Felix ?” 

“ Why, then, should Catholics ever come to hate 
and burn the Bible ?” 

“I am coming to that. The Catholic loved his 
Bible, he loves it still. But it is his Bible, the whole 
Bible, the whole Word of God, that he loves. The 
authors of Protestantism took considerable portions 
of the Catholic Bible, altered and translated them 
anew to suit their new faith, and called it ‘ The 
Bible.’ It is indeed their Bible. We cannot take 
it as the Bible^ because it is not the original Catho- 
lic Bible, the unaltered, unabridged Word of God. 
We do forbid our people to make use of the Protes- 
tant Bible. Protestant Bibles may have been burn- 
ed by Catholics, not however because they were 
Bibles, but because, pretending to be the inspired 
Word, they were not.” 

“ All I have to say is, that if the Catholic Church 
don’t hate and attempt to destroy the Bible, then 
she has been mightily belied, and some of us awfully 


1 1 2 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

deceived,” said my uncle warmly, who had naturally 
become the disputant, instead of mamma or myself. 

The Catholic Church not love and esteem the 
Word of God ! Is there any other church that 
places a heavier stake on the authority of the Scrip- 
tures than the Catholic ? Is there any other church 
that pretends to base so much of rule over men on 
the words of that book ? Is there any one, conse- 
quently, that has a greater interest in maintaining, 
preserving, and exhibiting that Word ? For those 
who have been educated in that religion know 
that, when the church claims authority, it is on the 
Holy Scriptures that she grounds it ; and is not this 
giving it a weighty importance beyond what any 
other church will attempt ?” 

“ I suppose there is one thing you won’t pretend 
to deny, that yours has been a dreadfully persecut- 
ing church ?” 

Uncle was evidently casting about for rebutting 
testimony. It was amusing to witness his air of con- 
fidence. Surely he had the priest now ! 

“ Not so very dreadful,” said Father Burke with 
a smile. “ It is true, one cannot but regret what- 
ever persecution has emanated from the church. 
Much attributed to her, however, does not lie at 
her door, but is due to the civil government under 
which she existed.” 

“ But there is the Inquisition, sir. Or will you 
undertake to say that there was never such an insti- 
tution ? I hope that was not an invention of Pro- 
testantism ?” 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 113 

“ The Inquisition did exist. It was established, 
however, by the Spanish Government, not by the 
church.” 

But the church upheld it. Priests turned the 
thumbscrews, and they or their hirelings plied the 
rack and torture.” 

I will not now go into an argument over that 
point. It would occupy much time, and require 
many details. But I will bring you Count De Mais- 
tre’s work on th-e subject, comprising statements 
and well-authenticated facts that will surprise you. 
You must keep in mind that there are often two 
sides to so-called history, as to ordinary stories.” 

“ You are now upon the very subject I wished to 
hear discussed,” observed mamma. “ And I would 
like to know why it is that Protestantism, which 
professes such purity, should be, to this day, so 
stained with the sin of slander against her which she 
cannot but admit to have been her own mother ?” 

“ You must perceive, Mrs. Lake,” said the priest, 
“ that, if Protestantism is right. Catholicity is wrong. 
If Catholicity is right, then Protestantism is more 
than a wrong, it is a crime; for she excuses her 
existence and maintains her position by a constant 
repetition of the basest calumnies. This her very 
nature obliges her to do. The moment she comes 
out and says, ‘ The Catholic Churcli is a church of 
God,’ she condemns herself. For her own rule of 
faith, her Bible, commands her to hear and obey the 
church. Therefore, true to her name, she protests 
first, last, and always, that the church is Antichrist, 


•I 14 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 


guilty of every crime, folly, and abomination. She 
was born into the world a Protestant — a rebel ; such 
she remains, her children divided into numberless 
factions, contending about words and names, with 
no bond of. union, without authority or discipline. 
Like a flock of sheep without a shepherd, they ap- 
pear at present rushing headlong down the preci- 
pice at whose base lies the gulf of infidelity. Not 
that I think Protestantism holds no Christians. My 
opinion is quite the reverse. But I speak of it as a 
whole.” 

“ How has it happened, sir, that, if Protestantism 
is wrong, it has been allowed such growth and ex- 
tension ?” asked mamma. 

“ Protestantism-,” the priest replied, “ is not the 
first heresy with which the church has had to con- 
tend. Arianism, in an early age of the church, was 
as widespread and deeply-rooted. Indeed, it out- 
grew and threatened the annihilation of the church. 
To human vision, the vine of God’s planting was 
about to perish. But Christ’s promise, woven with 
her existence, ensured her triumph. It was only 
after the lapse of centuries that that most formida- 
ble heresy disappeared — to be renewed in our own 
day in the form, somewhat modified, of Unitarian- 
ism. Pelagianism, Monothelitism, in short, an infi- 
nite number of “ isms,” have assailed her since that 
period. Often has she been so assaulted, so pelted 
and battered by the missiles of Satan, that the world, 
pointing her finger of scorn, has said : ‘ Behold, her 
end is at hand.’ But, true to the everlasting pro- 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 1 1 5 

mise, always has she emerged from each fiery 
furnace with renewed brightness, elasticity, and 
vigor. Had it been possible for the gates of hell to 
have prevailed, she would long since have sunk under 
the accumulation of calumny, ridicule, oppression, 
and the strong arm of unlawful, arbitrary power. 
Never was her downfall so hopefully prophesied as 
in the time of, and following, Luther’s reformation. 
But never before has she shone more brightly than 
since. And though it was divinely said of her, ‘ She 
shall be everywhere spoken against,’ the fiercest 
words fall harmlessly from her buckler, for her 
buckler is of steel — the steel of Truth.” 

“ And have you faith to believe that Protestant- 
ism, like Arianism, will ultimately disappear?” 
queried mamma incredulously. 

“ Assuredly I have. I could not believe other- 
wise and still preserve my faith in our Lord Jesus 
Christ. He established his church. He gave to it 
the Spirit of truth. He promised to be with her to 
the consummation of the world. Is Protestantism 
that church, of which no one ever heard until more 
than fifteen centuries after her Divine Founder had 
arisen from the dead ? Had I but Protestantism 
upon which to ground my faith, I should have no 
faith \ I should be an infidel. It is to the church 
of Christ, the church of the Apostles, the universal 
church, to .which I cling; otherwise to none.” 

“ I should really like to knowhow, first, churches 
and people got split up in the way they are,” said 
uncle, very serious. 


ii6 The Heart of My rrha Lake; 

“ Because,” replied the priest gravely, of the 
pride of men’s hearts. Because of disobedience. 
The Holy Scriptures command us to ‘ hear the 
church, which is the pillar and the ground of truth.’ 
Is it not a little singular that Protestants, who de- 
clare the Bible to be their rule of faith, entirely 
disobey this injunction ? They refuse to hear the 
church, to whom was given the authority to teach, 
preferring to go in their own ways ; is it to be 
wondered at that they stray in so many different 
paths, each with his Bible in his hand, one saying, 
‘ Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest he be 
wise in his own conceit.’ Another insisting, ‘ An- 
swer a fool according to his folly, lest — ’ So long 
as Christians are willing to obey that one injunction. 
Hear the church, they will not go astray.” 

“ But if the church should happen to go astray ?” 
questioned uncle. 

“She cannot; for to her is given the Spirit of 
truth. Wherefore the injunction to obey her if she 
could err ? You see the inconsistency.” 

“ But your church don’t always teach one and the 
same thing, does she ?” 

“Always the same. The same that Jesus Christ 
taught.” 

“ But he never taught that people should worship 
his mother instead of himself.” 

“No; nor does the church teach it, nor has she 
ever taught it.” 

“ What does she teach about that ? I’d just like 
to know.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 117 

^*You are aware that the sayings and acts of 
Christ and his Apostles are not all recorded ?” 

“Yes; John says, if they were written, the whole 
world couldn’t contain the books.” 

“ Very well. As our church dates back to that 
very time, she treasures with jealous care and 
veneration the traditions having reference to those 
unwritten acts. Not that only; but she remem- 
bers and perpetuates all the practices of those early 
Christians. One of these practices was veneration 
of the Blessed Virgin. Cannot you imagine that 
the mother of our Divine Lord must have been 
particularly loved and honored by his disciples, by 
all who believed in him ? That, even after his 
ascension and her assumption, she must have been 
remembered with the same devotion ? What 
more natural that a Christian who has sinned, feel- 
ing his unworthiness, should invoke the mother to 
plead for him with her Son ? He asks her not to 
pardon him, but to intercede as a mediator. Just 
as a criminal, who scarcely dare hope for mercy, 
begs the favorite of the king to add his petition to 
his own, and plead for him. It is not such worship 
as we pay to God, but a special veneration justly due 
to her whom God has favored above all creatures.” 

“ Well, there’s some reason in that. But there’s 
no sense in praying to saints.” 

“ It is on the same grounds, and in the same 
sense. Had I time, I could establish this by ex- 
amples from Scripture. Holy men, men who were 
dearly beloved and favored of God, naturally be- 


Ii8 The Heart of Alyrrha Lake; 


come dear to holy men who live after them. God 
granted them gifts and graces on earth : will he not 
more abundantly grant them gifts in heaven ? If 
the prayers of the righteous availed below, will they 
not prevail above ? Suppose your father dies a 
devout Christian. You remember his example ; 
you are almost in despair that you imitate him 
so little. Dropping to your knees, you cry : ‘ O 
my father! who lived so near unto God, whose 
prayers must have been to him so acceptable, 
pray for me ! Unite with the blessed saints and 
angels who surround God’s throne, and obtain for 
me that God may be merciful unto me a sinner.’ 
You place yourself, as it were, amidst a kneeling 
throng of suppliants; you have more courage 
thence to address your petition unto the Supreme 
Father.” 

I believe we all drew a long breath. Uncle 
Abner looked over at me with something like a 
puzzled expression : 

“What did I tell you this morning, Myrrha, 
about certain persons making black appear white, 
and white black ?” 

“ Oh I I suspect it should be this way : they 
make black appear white, because the black was to 
them, and really, white all the time. It is doubt- 
less the unbeliever who sees through the false 
medium.” 

“ I see no chance for my big guns. Your line 
of argument, parson,” said uncle, turning to the 
priest — why would he call him parson ? — “ is al- 


OTy Into tJie Light of Catholicity, 119 

together out of my beat. You are a very good 
smoothing-iron, sir, but there’s many a Protestant 
wrinkle in me yet. What about your putting every- 
body into convents, whether they will or no ?” 

“ That is as untruthful as all the rest. The very 
absurdity of the thing might prove to you its 
falsity.” 

“ By Mars ! if you don’t contradict everything ! 
Why, you must believe us Protestants to be a 
pretty set of blackguards ! What do you think 
of us, anyhow ?” 

“ I leave you to infer that we think the sup- 
porters of a cause must be aware of its desperate 
condition when they seek to uphold it by calumny 
and falsehood.” 

“ But I suppose you will admit that I have a 
right to choose which I shall believe — yourself, or 
the whole Protestant Church ?” 

“ I am one of the Church Catholic ; you are one 
of the Protestant sect Shall Mrs. Xake and her 
daughter, here present, believe what I say of my 
church, or shall they believe what you say of it ? 
Understand me. I do not say that your word of 
honor is not as good as mine. But I speak of 
what I know by actual knowledge ; you, in speak- 
ing of the church, speak only by hearsay, and that 
hearsay from the mouths of enemies.” 

“ But, sir, I have lived here among Catholics for 
the last forty years ; why have I not known some- 
thing of this before ?” 

I suppose you can answer that question better 


120 The Hca7't of Myrrha Lake ; 

than myself. Although I am at no loss for an 
answer. Did you ever make inquiry at the proper 
source, nay, would you this day be listening to my 
voice, if circumstances, beyond your control, had 
not, in a measure, forced you to do so ? If, from 
your earliest childhood, your parents had told you 
you must never go near a certain room, it con- 
tained a frightful creature that would devour chil- 
dren, do you not suppose that room would have 
been carefully avoided by you ? The bugbear 
tale had been told to your father, and to his father 
before him : each and all fully and innocently 
believed in it. All at once, somehow, from some- 
where comes mysteriously a whisper that possibly, 
after all, no such creature inhabits that room. Im- 
possible, you say. My fathers had not a doubt 
of it : I have had no doubt of it. But that faint 
whisper of doubt keeps your curiosity astir. Tliere 
is no rest nor peace of mind until the door of that 
room is opened, when no monster-creature ap- 
pears ! You blame not yourself nor your father 
for this life-long delusion ; but surely some one is to 
blame. You lose your faith in that ‘ some one ’ 
of a past age, however much you may have heard 
him extolled. You wonder you had not sooner 
thought to have examined for yourself. You won- 
der how your father could have lived until death 
the victim of such a delusion. So it is with regard 
to your never having sou^it to inform yourself as 
to the church. ‘ Habit is second nature ’ ; only a 
shock can send it out of its course.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 12 1 


XIII. 

BELIEVE I fell asleep while making my 
last entry. I had nearly finished, how- 
ever ; and to-day a circumstance has hap- 
pened which will furnish for my diary an entirely 
new leaf. Who should surprise us this morning but 
Selwyn ! We had not expected him until after he 
graduated next June. But he received a letter 
from his father, Dea. Everett, informing him, on the 
authority of Mr. Wells, that both mamma and my- 
self were doubtless on the eve of becoming Papists. 
It seemed to him utterly incredible, for I had 
never referred to the subject in my weekly letters. 
Yet the idea so oppressed him that he resolved on 
a flying visit from Yale to Charlestown. 

We have been engaged several years, alm.ost 
since we were children, and nothing but gentle 
words ever passed between us. Who could have 
foreseen so stormy an interview as this of to-day ? 
Shall I drop my pen and leave it to pass into ob- 
livion ? Surely it will never fade from my memory. 
I had no idea that Selwyn would have taken the 
fact of my conversion so much to heart. He is by 
no means religiously inclined ; and I flattered my- 
self, vain maiden that I am, that his affection for 
me was so full and sincere that it would survive 
any i^ossible change of time or circumstance. He 



122 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

accused me of duplicity in that for several months 
my mind had been given to a subject — and such a 
subject — which I was unwilling or ashamed even to 
speak to him in a single letter! I admitted that it 
did indeed look strange, and naturally must seem 
to him unaccountable. Yet I explained it on the 
true ground, that I at first attached slight import- 
ance to it, and deemed it would have for him no 
interest ; that even as the subject gained upon my 
attention, as there was no certainty or even proba- 
bility that it ever would affect any outward religious 
change, I would not needlessly agitate his mind. 
Still, afterward it had assumed such proportions 
that I fancied it could not be written, it must be 
told, and I had waited to tell him by word of 
mouth. Vain excuses all, which he would not ac- 
cept. Would he have kept from me, he questioned, 
a subject of such magnitude as must have so fully 
engrossed the mind? No; I must have known 
that the idea would be repugnant to him, that he 
would never approve of it, that he would never 
submit to it, and now even I was to abandon all 
thought of that outlandish heathenism, falsely call- 
ed religion, or our engagement of marriage was 
ended then and there ! I was then to choose be- 
tween Selwyn and my religion : the latter I would 
not give up — Selwyn, how could I ? 

“ If you would but read a few books,” I began. 

He fiercely interrupted me : 

“ That I never will — never — so help me God I 
1 will never meddle with the abomination ; it must 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 123 

be a stench in the nostrils of any decent man. 
How you can be so deluded is beyond human com- 
prehension. I should not have thought the very 
Evil One could have so seduced your good sense. 
And your mother, too ! Good heavens ! What a 
couple of monomaniacs ! ” 

Thus he went on. What should I say ? Above 
all things I would keep my temper. I would say 
nothing to be afterward sorry for. And truly I was 
grieved — not angry. I had had no experience with 
angry men ; this was the only masculine ebullition 
with which I have had to deal. I kept silence, 
resolving no word of mine should add fuel to the 
flame, and by-and-by it went out, not in smoke 
and ashes, but in a shower of tears. Then I for- 
gave him every bitter word. A woman may cry 
every day, and what of it ? But when a strong 
man weeps, you may know that the iron has enter- 
ed his soul. . . . 

When Selwyn left, it was with this understanding. 
He will carry out his intention of graduating in 
June, and spend the following two years in foreign 
travel. If at the termination of that period I shall 
have seen the folly of my ways, and forsaken the 
church which I am soon to enter, he will be ready 
to fulfil his engagement of marriage. If I still 
should adhere to my delusion, why, he would never 
marry a Catholic — never. Why did I not say, like a 
woman of spirit — Go; a Catholic is too good for you ; 
I will see your face no more. But I did not say it. 
I had come to have great faith in prayer to God. 


124 TJie Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


I said mentally, while he continued talking, I 
will pray for him, and by the grace of God he shall 
yet become a Catholic.” 

Therefore, when he said at parting : ‘‘ I have the 
utmost faith in your judgment, reason, and good 
sense — these v/ill ultimately assert their reign, and 
you will be Myrrha Lake, my Myrrha Lake again.” 

“ Always Myrrha Lake — but first, last, and al- 
ways true to her conscience and her God ! Do not 
forget that every day I shall pray for you, Selwyn.” 

He replied only by a prolonged, surprised look 
of doubt and inquiry, and was gone ! 

He had tarried but two hours — gone so soon. 
It was morning, now it is night ; and all the day I 
have said over and over : “ Yes, he is gone ; he is 
gone !” And, God forgive me, I have dared to ask, 
Is the gain worth the sacrifice ? And still there is 
such a hope in my heart, such an expectation I 
may say, that Selwyn Everett shall seek and find 
the true faith. Selwyn’s mother has always said of 
him, he was born under a happy star. His bache- 
lor uncle, a sea captain, requested he should bear 
his name, and, dying, bequeathed to him a con- 
siderable fortune. Success attended everything to 
which he touched his hand or gave his attention. 
He was precocious, and old of his years. He 
showed early, among his playmates, that he was 
one born to rule ; not from an exercise of physical 
force, but by that moral power to which inferior 
natures involuntarily yield. The good deacon, his 
father, the deacon’s wife, and their five daughters, 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 125 

all look up with a kind of deference to this only- 
son of their house. He is but. twenty-three years 
of age ; yet he scarcely ever receives a letter from 
home that his opinion is not consulted, even upon 
trivial affairs. 

And I, so long-timed his affianced, had actually 
for months meditated, and finally resolved upon a mo- 
mentous move, without so much as saying to him a 
word about it. What wonder his pride was wound- 
ed, his dignity offended ? I marvel now myself at 
it ; except that, as I did not speak of it at the be- 
ginning, the time for speaking of it seemed never to 
come. 

Mamma says she does not wonder at his surprise 
— nay, at his indignation. She says we have only 
to look back at ourselves to see what must be his 
opinion of our views. She thinks I did right not to 
answer him with words of anger ; that now we must 
expect the crosses, self-denials, and persecutions 
which Christ said the Christian should meet, and 
that we must patiently bear them. It seems she has 
all along foreseen this rupture, and been depress- 
ed on account of it. But truly she says, our God 
is good, we can safely put our trust in him. Mam- 
ma is really better for this day or two. 


126 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


XIV. 

'TCE the day before yesterday, when 
Uncle did fiot have his battle with the 
priest, I have until to-day vainly endea- 
vored to discover the state of his mind. True, I 
have scarcely seen him except at meals ; then he is 
very taciturn, which is quite unlike himself. I 
ventured to ask Aunt Ruth privately what Uncle 
thought of the priest’s remarks. 

“ He won’t talk much about it,” she replied, “ but 
he thinks the more. Haven’t you missed one of 
the books that your minister brought ? I was out 
at the hen-house ah hour ago, and what should I 
see but your uncle in the barn, sitting in a sunny 
place on the hay, so buried in that book that he 
neither saw nor heard me. Let him alone, child, 
just let him alone; the Lord will lead him wher-' 
ever he intends him to go.” 

“ And what do you think. Aunt Ruth ?” 

“ Oh ! I don’t pretend to think one way or 
another. I was brought up a Quaker; but when I 
married your uncle I became what he was, a 
Methodist. I have always thought, if one’s heart 
was right in God’s sight, it didn’t so much matter 
what people called themselves.; but I don’t know. 
I thought everything stood to reason that that 



dr^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 127 


Catholic gentleman said; but, then, I am no judge. 
I always thought the women had better let the men 
decide upon such things. You know St. Paul 
says, ‘ Let the women keep silence, and learn of 
their husbands at home.’ They have enough be- 
sides to think of — washing, ironing, cooking, mend- 
ing, pickling, preserving, sweeping, dusting, besides 
tending flowers, and visiting the sick.” 

“ Then you are going to let uncle think for 
you ?” smiling to myself. 

“Yes; I’m sure the Lord won’t let him go 
wrong now in his old age. He has tried to serve 
him faithfully all his life, though he has a quick 
temper, and, if he makes him change how, I shall 
think it is for the better. And if he changes, I 
shall. We sha’n’t separate at this late day, especi- 
ally sha’n’t the love of God separate us.” 

One might think from this speech of Aunt Ruth 
that she was somewhat simple in mind. If exceed- 
ing sweetness of disposition and thorough good- 
ness of heart constitute simplicity, then was Aunt 
Ruth simple. Doubtless the strong-minded wo- 
men of the present age would toss their noses at 
her with contempt, as they would for St. Paul if 
they could, and as they do at his doctrine. I 
sometimes wonder if these woman’s-rights women 
will rest calmly in their coffins at the last; if they 
won’t fling apart their folded hands, and pour forth 
from their pallid lips violent protests against being 
laid away in caskets made by masculine hands, 
and having clay shovelled over them by the strong 


128 The Heart of Myrr ha Lake; 

arms of man. So little can be associated with 
them an idea of rest — peace. 

I discovered the missing book to be Mihiet^s End 
of Controversy. Uncle’s mind, though untrained 
by education of the schools, and fettered by pre- 
judice, is still capable of comprehension, and can 
pretty well appreciate a train of argument. I had 
not even hoped for such readiness as this. “It 
is the work of God, and it is marvellous in our 
eyes.” 

I felt unusually cheerful to-day at dinner. My 
conversation with aunt had opened for me such a 
happy surprise. I wished to speak seriously to 
uncle, but, remembering his wife’s injunction “ to 
leave him alone,” I desisted. At length he himself 
broke the silence. 

“ I told you, Myrrha,” he began, in no gracious 
tone of voice or manner, “ that folks would do well 
to keep out of the reach of those ‘ black gowns.’ 
You know how the serpent charms the bird ? That 
is their power right over again.” 

“ Say, rather, uncle, it is the truth they present 
which fascinates you.’’ 

“ It is all the same thing. If I had kept out of 
his way, I should have been bothered neither with 
him nor his truth, as you call it.” 

“Think of mamma and myself. We became 
‘ fascinated ’ without the aid or intervention of any 
priest. We had only books ; and one a poor little 
ragged thing at that.” 

“ I tell you again, it is all the same thing. Who 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 129 

writes their books ? Priests, don’t tliey ? They 
bewitch everything they touch, especially if a heretic 
is around.” 

“ But they cannot always be sure that a book 
will fall into the hands of a heretic.” 

“ They can suppose so, and suppose right, too. 
I tell you I would give a thousand dollars if — if I 
had never — but he will find out that I am not 
going to be caught so easily. I’m not going to be 
fooled by smooth words, nor have the wool pulled 
over my eyes, at my time of life. No, by Jericho !” 
And he brought down his fist with such force upon 
the table as to endanger the integrity of china and 
glass. 

Aunt Ruth looked up mildly, and spoke as mild : 
“ Don’t get excited, Abner. I don’t believe any- 
body wants to convince you against your will ; and 
I am very sure they will not if they try. You 
always had a mind of your own ; I can testify to 
that.” 

Uncle did not answer; but, with remarkable 
swiftness, thrust into his mouth huge pieces of 
steak and bread, as if he had eaten nothing for 
a twelvemonth. 

I commenced diligently to inquire of Aunt Ruth 
how she made the delightful pudding she had just 
dished out for me. She launched forth into a full 
list of ingredients ; and from this turned to wedding- 
cake, which brought her to her own bridal cake of 
forty years ago, than which, she assured me, none 
could be richer, or for a longer time kept moist 


130 The Heart of My rrha Lake; 

and good; for a loaf of hers had been kept seven- 
teen years, and you hardly would know but it was 
baked yesterday. Under cover of this brisk con- 
versation, in which my attention at least seemed 
particularly engaged, uncle swallowed hastily his 
pudding, and withdrew — actually to the barn, 
to his sunny seat on the hay, to his book ! I shall 
not write, even on this page, how I came to know 
it for certain. 

I went back to mamma, and narrated it all to 
her, as well as my prior conversation with Aunt 
Ruth. 

“ Poor, dear Uncle Abner,” she said, as if speak- 
ing to herself, what a struggle he will have ! • God 
help him ! ” 

This afternoon I have been reading the Holy Eu- 
charist, by Cardinal Wiseman. It might be inquir- 
ed whether this be a book exactly suited to the 
comprehension of a girl in her teens. It is not ex- 
pected, of course, that I should be able to decide 
upon the correctness of his Hebraic or Syriac trans- 
lations ; like the multitude of readers, I am to take 
for granted the assertions of one who may be sup- 
posed to take a laudable pride in his literary vera- 
city, as in his profound erudition. 

“ Who is to decide when doctors disagree ? ” It 
seems that the most distinguished commentator, 
Adam Clarke I believe, had given the Protestant 
world an emotion of triumph by stating that our 
Saviour was obliged to make use of the expression, 
“ This is my body,” inasmuch as there was no word in 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 13 1 

the Syrian language signifying “ to represent ” which 
could take the place of is. Our author, Cardinal 
Wiseman, examined into the truth of this statement. 
In the dictionary for English use he found no such 
word, it is true. In a close study, however, of the 
principal literary works of the language, he found 
forty-one words synonyms of our word “ represents.” 
Truly, to be wise, it is good ; to be wiser, is better \ 
to be wisest, most excellent of all. 

I wonder if I understand thoroughly, or rightly 
at all, this argument, which made upon me the deep- 
est impression of any. He says, in substance, that 
his disciples could not have understood their Lord 
in a figurative sense, for this reason: In the lan- 
■guage by him employed, and to them familiar, the 
expression to eat jjiy flesh was not uncommon ; its 
universal signification, however, was “ to reproach,” 
“ to calumniate.” Therefore they could not have 
accepted, any more than he could have designed, 
this figurative sense. How many pages are filled, 
and what learning and ability employed, in dis- 
quisitions upon this solemn subject ; when, after all 
is said, as mamma observed, it stands out simple 
and grand upon the inspired page in the words of 
our blessed Lord, “ This is my body ; This is my 
blood.” 

If Christ intended it literally, and still we take it 
in the Protestant sense, how infinitely do we lose ! 
If he intended it figuratively, of what, after all, can 
the Catholic be accused, but of following his dear 
Lord too closely, and of adhering to the letter as 


132 The Heaj't of Myrrha Lake ; 


well as to the spirit of his word ? This was to us a 
striking suggestion which weighed vastly for a 
literal interpretation. The Protestant belief is that 
Christ is present in spirit at the Holy Communion ; 
present somewhere, in the heart at least. Catho- 
lics, it seems, believe he is spiritually and bodily 
present in the consecrated bread and wine. In 
either sense, what solemnity surrounds it! It 
seems to me that in the one, relying on the mercy 
and merits of him whom we hold in remembrance, 
we may dare become partakers in the communion 
of Love ; that, in the other, nothing but purity 
itself should kneel before it. That, like the heathen 
poet of old, before touching his household gods, 
he must have “ bathed his hands in pure water,” 
his heart and soul in that “ fountain which cleanses 
from all sin ” ; and by fasting and prayer to feel 
conscious, as it were, that his soul was indeed a 
“ fit temple for the Holy Spirit to dwell in.” 

Sitting here in the silence of my chamber, I feel 
how incapable I am of judging upon a subject of 
so solemn significance ; yet have I need to ponder 
all these things in my heart. 


ovy Into the Light of Catholicity, 133 


XV. 

IS morning came uncle into our pleasant, 
south room. Mamma was sitting up, 
arrayed in a crimson cashmere dressing- 
gown, upon which fell the warm spring sunshine, 
reflecting a bright glow upon her sunken cheek. 

“ Better to-day, Mary ? ” said uncle. 

“ Perfectly comfortable just now, thank you,” she 
replied, watching him as he laid upon the table the 
End of Cojitroversy which he had so surreptitiously 
taken. 

“A wonderful book — wonderful,” he remarked, 
seeing himself observed, “ but a man is not oblig- 
ed to believe everything he reads ; some writers, 
though, have a great way of twisting up things — 
now, this Milner has, at least, a thousand threads 
which he calls proof, out of which he makes a big 
rope, this he swings out like a lasso, and before you 
know you are caught — likely as not, and not as 
likely. Faith, it is not, as likely, in my case. I am 
too old to be learning new things. If I had read 
that book in my young days, say forty or more 
years ago, there is no knowing what might have 
happened.” 

“ Then you don’t wonder so much at Myrrha 
and your deluded niece ? ” 

“ Can’t say as to that. Think it a thousand pities, 



134 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

though, that you ever turned out of the old track 
— that you ever saw one of these old-fangled books. 
It is better to live and die in the faith one is born.” 

“If the • Reformers had held to that doctrine, 
uncle, there would be no need for us to turn back 
seeking the faith they remorselessly left.” 

“ That is so. They did turn their backs upon 
the faith they were born in. I never thought' of 
that. But then the old church had become so cor- 
rupt.” 

. “ I suspect it was just about as are the churches 
of the present day. Look about for yourself, uncle. 
You find those even in your own church who do 
not lead Christian lives, and who are a scandal to 
religion. People of the world say often : ‘No bet- 
ter state of morals prevail in than out of the 
church.” Would this be sufficient reason for you 
to come out and establish a society of your own, 
which you call a church ? Does not our Saviour 
say the tares shall gr aw with the wheat ? No mat- 
ter what new society may be formed, aiming at a 
higher state of morals, unworthy persons will soon 
form a part; for human nature is ever the same; 
the hypocrite assumes the garb of sanctity, and evil 
ones deceive the very elect.” 

“ Yes, I read in that book, over there, that al- 
though Jesus knew Judas was a fallen disciple, yet 
he allowed him to be of the twelve up to the last 
moment. He left him to settle with God his own 
account, thereby setting an example that the church 
should not be surprised or disheartened when she 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 135 

finds among her children those who prove traitors 
and criminals. I never thought of that before. If 
Peter had come out and said — though Peter 
couldn’t say much — he had denied his Master; 
but supposing John or Thomas had come out and 
said, ‘ I won’t go with the others, they nourished 
Judas in their midst; they are as bad as he was; 
I am better than they ; I will form a new company.’ 
That would be doing as the Reformers did — but I 
don’t know, I never thought anything of all this 
before — my head is almost too old to think about 
it now. But it does appear to me as if a great mis- 
take had been made some time, by somebod}^, and 
that the church should never been split up in this 
way. It has been permitted by the Lord, and 
we’ve nothing to say.” 

“ So has sin ever been permitted since the age of 
Adam. Still, is it not our duty to speak everywhere 
and at all times against it ? ” 

During this conversation. Father Burke was 
announced. “ He had come,” he said, “ for an hour 
or two in the morning, as he was to be otherwise 
engaged for the afternoon.” He brought the pro- 
mised book on the Inquisition, and several other 
works, on the persecutions under the various Pro- 
testant reigns, particularly under that of Elizabeth. 

“ That is a great stain against your church,” said 
uncle, in a tone a good deal more subdued than 
that of a few days ago. “ Her cruel persecutions 
show' that she was animated by a very bad spirit.” 

Persecution, from wdiatever source,” replied the 


136 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 


priest, “has been due to the spirit of the age, 
rather than to the spirit of the church. There has 
been no more persecution among Catholics than 
among Protestants, nor so deadly and long-con- 
tinued.” 

We were all surprised, and uncle fairly rose to his 
feet. 

“ You cannot believe what you say, with that 
cruel Inquisition staring you in the face, and all the 
frightful history of the past to prove that you 
are mistaken.” 

Father Burke smiled : “ I affirm nothing of 

which I have not abundant proof at hand — his- 
tory from both Catholic and Protestant sources. 
Both prove the spirit of pure, immixed persecution 
to have been more bitter with the Protestants than 
with the Catholics. You have read only of Catho- 
lic persecution. In these books, read a tale of 
Protestant persecution, that will fully convince you 
of the truth of my statement.” 

Uncle settled back in his chair, refraining from 
utterance of what was upon his tongue, and listened 
attentively as the priest directed his conversation to 
mamma. In answer to his inquiry of the results 
of her reading, she informed him that she had 
listened with great satisfaction to the reasoning 
and expositions of Cardinal Wiseman, and that 
upon that vexed question she had become satisfied 
that she could believe it, and, with all her heart, 
wished to believe it “ And, now that that most 
difficult of all subjects is disposed of, I feel as 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 137 

though 1 can believe all else that the church 
teaches, whether now acquainted with it or not.” 

“ That is the point for you to come to, madam. 
It was sufficient for you to have believed simply 
that the church Avas Christ’s Church, with divine 
authority to teach. With a full belief in this, the 
rest is easy and natural. Converts, however, have 
usually to go over the whole ground of doctrine 
before they can become convinced. All at once 
it dawns upon them, ‘ Why, I might not have studied 
and questioned thus long ; enough for me to know 
that it is the One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic 
Church, divinely guarded from error, commissioned 
to teach the truth unto all nations.’ This, in the 
primitive ages of the church, was nearly all that 
catechumens were privileged to know. And if you 
are convinced, what then ?” 

“ I wish to be received into the church.” 

“ This is Thursday. Have you been out-of- 
doors yet ?” 

She had not; but Doctor Jordan had, only the 
day before, recommended a daily drive, which had 
to-day been proposed to her. With her usual dis- 
inclination to exercise, she had deferred until the 
morrow. It was finally settled that, Sunday week 
being Easter — though we know nothing about 
Easter as yet — if between now and then mamma 
could gain sufficient strength, we should on that 
day receive baptism at the church. And may God 
give unto us fulness of love and perfection of 
faith ! May it prove unto us a baptism of water 


138 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

and of the Spirit. So buried with Christ in baptism, 
that we may rise with him to newness of life. 

This is the first week during Selwyn’s college 
course that I have had from him no letter. He did 
not say he should not write ; it was reasonable to 
suppose, however, that our correspondence was at 
an. end. And yet, when the usual day came, and 
without a letter, I knew how strong had been the 
hope of one — to myself but half acknowledged. It 
is better thus. I will remember to pray for him ; 
otherwise endeavor to forget him. Impossible ! 
Not impossible the endeavor, and it must be made. 
Have I known no temptation since “ having put 
my hand to the plough to turn back ” Does not 
this clinging to an unpopular religious faith dis- 
solve every hope of happiness, humanly considered ? 
It demands the sacrifice of the one love of my girl- 
hood, the betrothed of my womanhood, and I have 
but a human heart — O my God ! only a human 
heart — have thou pity upon me ! For there are 
times when affection pleads, when reason is over- 
come. I question if I be not foolish, obstinate ; if 
I had not better reconsider, and resolve that in the 
faith of my father I can live and die, and thus re- 
tain dear Selwyn’s love and promise. I meditate, 
resolve, doubt, and inquire upon a sleepless pillow — 
and when a voice within says, No, no, you cannot; 
I rebel and say, And why not ? I would be but 
following the course intended, had this girl Cathe- 
rine never crossed my path. Why should an ex- 
amination into the Catholic religion so fetter my 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 139 

conscience as with “ hooks of steel ” ? Why can I 
not give a bound, a leap, and be free; casting for 
ever behind me the mazes and meshes that separate 
me from the one love of my life ? And yet, un- 
accountably, I am not ‘‘ in a strait betwixt two.” 
For when I say, “ I cannot give up Selwyn, no, I 
cannot give him up,” another voice asserts itself. 
It says, so softly, yet firmly, “ Though you give up 
all else, you will never give up your religious faith ; 
for it is founded upon a rock, and though the rains 
fall, and the winds beat against it, and the floods 
roll around it, it shall not perish, but sustain you 
triumphantly to the end ! ” In yielding to this 
voice, who shall say I am not influenced by a pos- 
sibility that God will deign to listen to my earnest 
prayers, and that Selwyn shall be brought to seek the 
same faith ? Alas, alas ! that earthly love should be 
mingled with the divine ! For here, surely I may 
say it on this page, I can but confess that I can 
never cease to love Selwyn — never, never — through 
all time, and to the end of eternity, were eternity 
not infinite. I may avoid writing his name upon 
these pages — but I know not how to erase the in- 
delible imprint from my heart. Merciful Jesus, 
have mercy upon me ! 


140 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


XVI. 

ATHERINE has been explaining to us the 
Rosary. It seems that is the proper 
name — they do not call them beads. 
Though a most fit name it would be, I thought, as I 
read in one of Father Burke’s books about the Verier- * 
able Bede of England. It said bede^ in Saxon, sig- 
nified prayer. The thought at once struck me that 
that was the reason the Catholic beads were so-called. 
How appropriate ! I must ask Father Burke about 
it, and also about the origin of the Rosary, by whom 
instituted, and so forth. Questions come up every 
day that I wish to have answered, but somehow 
when Father Burke comes they are all put to flight. 
Sometimes I have charged mamma with them, and 
she speaks about them ; or sometimes in the course 
of my reading I find explanations that satisfy me. 

The Rosary, like everything else about the 
Catholic religion, strange and blind at first, be- 
comes beautiful when fully understood. Those 
who speak of it contemptuously know nothing 
about it. “While they sneer, the Catholic may’ be 
ascending to heaven,” as I read to-day. Father 
Burke said, when speaking of “ veneration of 
Mary,” that the Protestant assertion that this de- 
rogated from honor due to the Father and the 
Son fell to the ground ; for the Catholic prayed 



or^ Into the Depths of Catholicity. 14 1 

to the Father and the Son equally or more with the 
Protestant; and the prayers addressed to Mary 
were additional petitions, by which God was but 
the more honored. In honoring Mary, the honor 
is on account of, and reflected to, her divine Son. 
I look now at all this in such a different, but such 
a satisfactory view since even a week ago. In 
honoring the saints, we honor those whom God 
has honored — we honor them for his Name’s 
sake. In short, the Catholic religion inculcates so 
boundless a love and worship of God as to teach 
the heart to call upon every living creature in 
heaven and upon earth to join with it in giving 
praise and glory to his holy name. Can we im- 
agine that God is not pleased with such homage ? 
I opened to-day in Faber’s All for fesus^ and 
the very commencement of a certain chapter was, 
“ Our religion is emphatically the * worship of 
Jesus.’ ” Shall I believe him, a convert, whose 
tender heart seems, by his writings, to have been 
dissolved in the love of God and of heaven ; or 
shall I believe the enemies of this all-absorbing 
faith when they say, “ It is the worship of the 
creature ” ? 

There are doubtless enthusiasts in the Catholic 
fold. With every branch of their religion they 
may carry their devotion to Mary and to the saints 
.to an extreme. From certain portions of their 
writings, you might perhaps judge that they hon- 
ored them unduly. But it is to be remembered 
that this is an ashle of their devotion ; not the 


142 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


principal part. It would be unfair to say they had 
no worship but for the Blessed Virgin and the 
saints, when this very worship sprang from their 
exceeding love to the Father. I know from expe- 
rience that, if I love a friend, that love extends in a 
degree to all with whom he is connected, even to 
things inanimate. I have a w'atch, a pencil, vari- 
ous things that were my father’s. They are doubly 
endeared to me, simply because they were his. His 
picture hangs at home in our parlor. Mamma 
knows it is only his picture; yet she weeps before 
it, because it recalls all the love of her early life, 
all that he was to her, all that he still is ! Does 
she, then, worship his picture? But she would 
grieve to see a neighbor come in, and with frantic 
violence cut it in pieces or trample it beneath his 
feet. Thus grieved the faithful Catholic heart 
when the vandal hand of the Reformer defaced 
and burned the dear pictures of Jesus and Mary 
and the saints. Thus throbbed with agony the 
bosom of the church when she saw huge 'ropes 
thrown around the neck of the statues of Christ, 
by which they were pulled from their sacred 
niches, and hacked in pieces by worse than bar- 
barian hands — by the hands of the Reformers ! 
Was it, then, a crime, this clinging to pictures of 
those we love ? Was it not then, is it not still, the 
fond device of the human heart to bring nearer the 
soul in its companionship with the object of its 
affection ? And those sacred pictures — what could 
so adequately convey, even to untutored minds, 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 143 

the transfigured loveliness of those gone before ? 
Ah ! an insane hatred to the church extended tc 
the images, pictures, sacred vessels, even to the 
very temples of God ! It was our Divine Lord 
who said : 

“ But all these things will they do unto you foi 
my name’s sake, because they know not him that 
sent me. 

“ If the world hate you, ye know that it hated 
me before it hated you. 

“ If ye were of the world, the world would love 
his own ; but because ye are not of the world, but 
I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the 
world hateth you.” 

Worse and worse ! From among her own chil- 
dren, gathered to her bosom, was the serpent to 
sting, the Judas to betray the church. Yes, truly 
must there have been tares with the wheat in the 
sixteenth century. Plenty of supine souls glad to 
throw otf the restraints of the ancient religion, 
ready -to destroy every reminder of obligations un- 
fulfilled, to blot out every vestige which should 
serve as an incentive or a reproach. 

I look back upon Protestants with pity, upon 
Protestantism with hatred and contempt. Protes- 
tants as a class know not what they do when they 
speak against the Catholic Church. They speak 
of it as of the wind, with as little knowledge or 
thought even, “ knowing not whence it comes, nor 
whither it goeth.” Have I not authority and 
reason so to speak ; for was I not of them a part ? 


144 Heart of My rr ha Lake; 


I know, then, how to have patience with theii 
thoughtlessness, their utter ignorance upon this one 
subject. With Protestantism itself, however, I 
have no patience and no forbearance. Inasmuch 
as I hate falsehood, duplicity, calumny, so do I 
loathe Protestantism, a composition of these terms, 
a synonym for them all. It was born protesting, it 
lives protesting, and will probably die protesting, if 
it have strength left to protest. From first to last 
it utters a lie, upon the strength of which its very 
existence is staked. “ The Catholic Church is the 
kingdom of Satan.” If it succeed in making man- 
kind believe this, the Catholic Church must die out 
finally, and Protestantism shall rule the world. If 
she hesitate, if she falter, if she cease to cry aloud 
upon her high walls and towers (and she is but 
human), then woe to her superstructure, for her 
falsehood, her foundation, is weakened, and her 
days are numbered. Hence her unwearied vigil- 
ance, her league, her compromise with the world, 
against the church of God, which was to be always 
known by “ being everywhere spoken against.” 

Protestantism insists upon faith. This, too, after 
having come out from the very home of faith, and 
after having cut herself off from every ground and 
rule of faith. What authority hath she, who cut 
herself loose from the only source of authority ? 
What claim hath she to love and obedience, whose 
first and every act has been in violent rebellion 
against the parent, who, like a mother, still pities, 
and would reclaim her ? 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 145 

This is much for me to say — for me, so recently 
a convert. I can scarcely account for this decided 
nature of my sentiments. Only on this principle : 
that when a person has been grossly deceived, when, 
having had implicit faith in a friend, he finds him 
utterly false, he is apt no more to believe in him 
nor trust in him. 

Nothing has so much contributed to my conver- 
sion, and particularly to mamma’s, as the discovery 
that Protestantism utterly and wilfully misrepresents 
the doctrines and practices of the true church. 
All that Protestantism holds and teaches as truth, 
aside from her falsehoods, is borrowed from the 
church. Her doctrines of the Trinity, the Incar- 
nation, her very belief in the Word of God, all rest 
solely upon that enemy which she so cruelly 
maligns. If the frail, weak heart of mortal turn 
away for what Protestantism hath not to offer; 
and if haply it find rest from its wanderings within 
what, it feels assured, is the fold of the Good Shep- 
herd, what more natural than that fold should seem 
to it exceeding precious — the more so, in contrast 
to the barren wilderness it has wearily wandered 
through? All this mamma and I have talked 
over. She feels this much more fully than I could 
be expected to do. Her mind is entirely de- 
voted to the subject ; so much so, that I do not 
think she takes time to consider if she be sick or 
well. 

Catherine says that the reason I was interested 
in seeing her first repeat her rosary was because 


146 The Heart 0/ My rr ha Lake; 

she had me that moment in thought — she was pray- 
ing for me ! It is thus I will pray for Selwyn. 

She says it is holy water with which she has 
been bathing mamma’s eyes; and that whenever 
she applied it she offered a prayer to the effect 
that the application might prove beneficial to her 
suffering eyes, and that, in like manner, God would 
so open the eyes of her understanding as that she 
might be able to discover “ the true Light, which 
may light every one that cometh into the world.” 
When Catherine told me these things, I looked up 
to her with a kind of reverence. I thought there 
must appear something about her of the supernatural. 
But she is only an ordinary mortal, an humble 
servant-girl ; though full of faith, and perfect in 
obedience to the laws of God, and the precepts of 
the church. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 147 


XVII. 

•AY was mamma’s and my first 
Sunday — the day when oui 
Saviour arose from the dead ! 
Every year, for eighteen hundred and seventy 
years, has the church honored and celebrated this, 
one of her sweetest, holiest, gladdest days ! Every 
year, yet we knew it not ! JFe had no part nor 
lot in the general rejoicing, in the offering of flowers, 
in the solemn thanksgivings, in the anthems of 
praise. The church poured forth exultantly hei 
Gloria in Excelsis, and the very angels must 
have joined in her thrilling hosannas, while the 
outside world, and w'e amongst the rest, cast con- 
temptuous glances, cried, “ Away with your ignor- 
ance, your superstition !” gathered the folds of our 
garments closer about us, whispering as we glided 
by, “ Holier than thou.” 

Ha-d I ten thousand lives, each of which was to 
be indefinitely prolonged, I could not sufficiently 
thank God that he has brought me into the so- 
called superstitions of Catholicity. Yea, I feel 
to-day, with the baptismal water fresh upon my 
forehead, with the breath of the Holy Comforter 
still upon my spirit, that the sacrifice of my youth- 
ful love which I had deemed so great, nay, so 



148 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


almost impossible, is but too slight for the inestima- 
ble gifts I have received — the love of Jesus, the 
grace of God, the knowledge of his church. 

The weather has been remarkably mild and 
pleasant for the season. Every day, for the last 
week. Uncle Abner has harnessed his clever little 
pony into the old-fashioned chaise, and taken 
mamma to drive. She enjoyed it, and has become 
benefited by it. It is singular what an impression 
one receives at Uncle Abner’s house. Though 
right in the midst of the city, you seem to live in a 
tiny world of country. Aunt has her cow and 
calf, her hens, turkeys, and doves. Uncle has his 
stable, pony, chaise, garden, fruit-trees, et cetera. 
The neighboring houses are almost hidded away 
by magnificent trees that surround the whole 
grounds. It is truly a delightful retreat. “ What 
will you do with it ?” I said to him, the other day, but 
regretted immediately the question, for this was his 
answer : “ Can’t imagine now, since the naughty 
little girl I had willed it to has gone and turned 
Papist. She would make a nunnery of it, of 
course !” 

We were all so thankful that yesterday proved 
beautiful. Catherine had all along assured us that 
we need have no fears upon that point ; for was 
not Easter Sunday always bright and glorious ? 
Mamma was unusually animated and cheerful. 
Uncle Abner took her to church in the chaise, 
while Aunt Ruth accompanied Catherine and my- 
self. This was aunt’s first visit to a Catholic 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 149 

sanctuary. I had commenced attending service 
on Palm Sunday. I was so powerfully affected 
that I cried nearly the whole time. It was so 
brought home to me, for the first time, that Christ 
did really enter into Jerusalem, and that green 
boughs were spread in his way ! Holy Week has 
been to me the most wonderful, bewildering of my 
life ! Written in my life, if not in this book. It is 
impossible to express the impression made by the 
altars, flowers, lights, everything so new and 
strange. AVill I ever get used to it ? Will I ever 
get so to understand the Mass ? For it is not only 
Latin in word, but altogether Greek in signification. 
If the priest would pronounce his Latin more 
slowly, I might get something of the sense. How 
I am ever to know when to kneel and when to 
stand I cannot comprehend, only as I look at the 
others, and “ do as the Romans do.” That is very 
awkward. However, I shall make it a study, like 
anything else which I am desirous of learning. 
Catherine says “ it will all come to me,” and I hope 
she is right. I said after Mass was over, “ Well, 
this is worship.” Father Burke preached a very elo- 
quent sermon upon the resurrection. That I could 
understand and admit. In his words, I forgot 
everything. It was only when^he was done that I 
thought he must ever finish. It was the finest 
sermon I ever heard. Never before had I fully 
realized that Christ did really arise from the dead. 
Had this keeping of the day aught to do with it ? 
If the Fourth of July had never been celebrated. 


150 The Heart of Myrrha Lake; 


I wonder how many would think on that day of 
George Washington ? No doubt, the parades 
made on the glorious Fourth, the processions, 
speeches, firing of cannon, serve to keep fresh in 
the memory of every child in the land the day of 
American Independence. Jesus, the Son of Mary, 
the Son of God, gave up his life in agony to redeem 
mankind from the tyranny of sin. On the third 
day he arose from the dead, proving thus that he 
w^as indeed the God-man, the Everlasting Father, 
the Prince of Peace. Is not that a day to be com- 
memorated ? I think one reason why the Catho- 
lic Church so wins the respect and love of her chil- 
dren is because she is in everything so connected 
with the Church of the Apostles. • So connected, I 
say. ? Because she is the Church of the Apostles, 
were it not better to assert ? 

I often think of this remark of Hecker’s : “We 
do not worship a dead God.” He elsewhere says : 
“ We refuse to acknowledge for our Saviour one 
dead and separated from us by eighteen centuries.” 
“ If Christ is to be to us a Saviour, we must 
find him here, now, and where we are, in this 
age of ours also; otherwise he is no Christ, no 
Saviour, no Immanuel, no God with usT Speak- 
ing of the Holy Eucharist, he says : 

“ When we consider that God is really and truly 
present on the altars of the Catholic Church — that 
he is the guest of the Catholic heart, its life and its 
nourishment — is it to be wondered at that this 
church has given birth to so many heroes, saints. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity, 15 1 

and martyrs, and still continues to do so ? Oh ! 
life becomes great, noble, divine, under the in- 
fluence and in the participation of so great mys- 
teries ! Is it not a sufficient evidence of the divin- 
ity of the Catholic faith that it elevates the .human 
heart to the belief that it receives, in the Sacrament 
of Holy Communion, Almighty God ? Is not this 
an audacity of faith and love which none but God 
himself can inspire, sustain, and perpetuate in poor, 
weak human hearts ?” 

It was a great day for Catherine, this last 

lovely Easter. It seemed as if she, too, felt baptized 
anew in the love of Jesus. Aunt Ruth expressed 
herself as well pleased, but went into no raptures. 
Uncle Abner was very reticent upon his experience. 
He keeps himself hidden for the most part. He is 
no doubt reading, as several of Father Burke’s 
books have disappeared. There is no commotion 
made about the mystery of their departure. We 
know that they will come again, “ bringing their 
sheaves with them.” 

When mamma kissed me good-night, she said 
tenderly, “We are again newly bound together, 
my daughter, being members of the One Holy 
Church, founded by our dear Lord. May you 
realize this, and rejoice in it as I do, Myrrha !” 

We have twice now said the Rosary with Cathe- 
rine. We are to repeat a portion of it every night. 
And each night I go to sleep still saying it, “ now, 
and at the hour of our death.” It is pleasant to 
think how those words have dwelt upon the lips of 


152 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

saints and martyrs. How they have gone up like 
an incense, following the “ Our Father,” for so 
many centuries to the eternal throne. Truly are 
they sacred words which the church puts into the 
mouths of her children 1 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 


153 


XVIII. 

YRRHA ! Myrrha ! are you asleep 
Thus called Aunt Ruth last night 
after I had fallen into a slight oblivion. 

What is it, Aunt Ruth ?” I asked, springing up 
in bed. “ Is uncle sick — is mamma worse ?” 

“ Nobody is sick, Myrrha, don’t be alarmed ; no 
one is sick, unless it be myself, and I am heart- 
sick ! I can do nothing with your uncle. He is 
out in the barn, praying as loud as he can scream. 
He won’t hear me, nor heed me, nor answer me. 
He is wrestling with the Lord as did Jacob — and 
seems, like him, determined ‘ not to let him go, 
except he bless him ’ ; the burden of his prayer is 
for the Lord to give him back his peace of mind, 
his faith in the Methodist Church !” 

“ And that will God never give him,” I said 
aloud, more to myself than to my unexpected 
visitor. 

‘‘Please don’t say so, Myrrha; perhaps he will. 
But your uncle will get his death-cold in the 
barn. I don’t think he slept one wink all last 
night. And for several nights, I should have 
thought, from his tumbling and tossing, that he 
was lying on a hot gridiron, instead of my best 
bed of live-geese feathers. Dear me ! what does 



154 Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 

possess him ? I really am afraid he will go 
stark mad, if he is not already so.” 

Aunt, drawing her shawl around her, had seated 
herself on the side of my bed, while I had lain 
down again, with both pillows under my head. 
I could see, by the white moonlight streaming 
in, that her aged face was white and troubled, 
and I could have cried for her in sympathy; 
but that would do no good. I said : “ Dear 
aunt, believe me, uncle will come out all right. 
Did I not have my struggle ? and did not mamma 
have hers ? and did we not have to yield at last ? — 
and see how happy we are now ! Just so it will be 
with uncle; have patience, courage, and hope.” 

“ But I hope. Myrrh a, you didn’t scare every- 
body’s wits out of their heads by your long prayers, 
and fasts, and vigils. If this is getting faith — but 
there ! I don’t want to be wicked. As for Abner, 
I don’t see what there is for him to be so worried 
about; he has lived a good Christian life, he is a 
good man — good as gold, if I do say it, abating his 
hot temper, and that he can’t help, seeing he was 
born with it — but dear me ! how am I ever going to 
get him in from that cold stable ? He will be 
down sick, and I shall be sick fretting about 
him.” 

“ Do you think I could have any influence over 
him, aunt ? Supposing I get up and dress, and go 
out with you ; do you think it would be of use ?” 

“The truth is, I don’t think it would one bit. 
There never was a time before when he would not 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 155 

hear to me. Now he is unmanageable. I believe 
he don’t even listen to me with his natural ears. I 
hope he will be the better able to hear the voice of 
the Lord when he shall speak peace to his soul. 
O Lord ! come quickly !” 

“ Let us repeat the Lord’s Prayer together for 
dear Uncle Abner,” I said. And after this, I 
added : “ O Blessed Virgin Mary ! and all ye holy 
angels and saints of God, make intercession for 
him.” I still kept praying mentally, and I think 
Aunt Ruth did also, for she was silent. After 
awhile, she said : 

“ I feel a great deal better than I did. I wish I 
had come to you sooner. You are a great com- 
forter, for one so young. In all the little troubles 
of my life, Abner has helped to share tliem. I 
don’t know how to do or bear anything without 
him.” 

‘‘ I know ; our burdens become lighter when 
shared with another,” I murmured. And the 
thought of Selwyn came to me — the thought of 
what he had been, what he might have been ! 
Then I thought how slight the hold we had upon 
human love! Here was Aunt Ruth — how she 
leaned upon her husband!— how her husband 
leaned upon her ! Yet how little was the thread 
of life ! Was it not better to lean upon God 
alone, upon whom at last you must lean for sup- 
port ? A ray of comfort, yea, of peace, stole into 
my heart, that, though all else should fail, God, 
the Eternal Father, was my rock and my refuge : 


156 The Hcai't of My rr ha Lake; 


even the rock and the refuge of all who would put 
their trust in him. Presently w'e \vere startled by 
hearing the voice of uncle. He was calling his 
wife by name. Without a word she ran out joy- 
fully,. and I saw nor heard more of her for that 
night. Resting perfectly assured that all would yet 
be well, I soon fell asleep, to dream of seeing 
Uncle Abner climbing aerial ladders that had points 
of support neither upon earth nor in heaven. 
Though he managed himself so dextrously, I had 
no fear for him. 

“ Do you expect the priest again soon, Myrrha ?” 
was uncle’s first salutation this morning. 

Now, I did not expect him at all ; but as I felt 
sure uncle wished to see him, I bethought myself 
that we could send for him. I therefore answered : 
“ I dare say he will be here in a day or two.” 

“ When he comes, let me know of it.” 

I repeated to mamma uncle’s question, after 
having informed her of the events of the preceding 
night. She felt convinced that uncle would not 
rest satisfied until he had conferred with ‘Father 
Burke ; and at once despatched Catherine with a 
note requesting him to call soon as convenient, 
slightly hinting the occasion. 

Somewhat late in the afternoon, I went to ap- 
prise uncle of the priest’s arrival. He followed me 
into mamma’s room. Uncle Abner w’as not one to 
do things by halves; nor, having made up his 
mind to do a thing, could fear, shame, or anything 
under the sun, deter him from doing it boldly and 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 157 


openly. We had expected him to make to the 
priest a confession of his having received the gift 
of faith. But we had not expected to behold this 
sturdy Methodist, this bluff old man, fall upon his 
knees at the feet of Father Burke, his massive body 
shaking with the sobs that convulsed his frame. 

We all fell to weeping. Aunt Ruth had silently 
followed, and, kneeling by mamma’s side, leaned 
her head on the arm of her chair. 

The priest was the first to break the silence, by 
repeating some passages from the Scriptures, in 
a low, soothing tone of voice. I cannot recall the 
words, for I seemed, for the moment, sensible only 
to sound. 

When uncle could speak, he said : “ I vowed to 
God that I would never kneel at the feet of a 
Catholic priest. Because of that vow, I vowed 
again that my first act as a Catholic should be to 
fall at your feet for the blessing of God.” 

The minister of God could scarcely speak. In 
truth, there was more of weeping done at that inter- 
view than anything else, and I may as well draw 
over it the veil. It does not now seem to me sur- 
prising that mamma or I should have become con- 
verted to Catholicity. It seems to have been easy, 
natural, and consistent. But it does seem strange, 
unaccountable, that one imbued with prejudice to 
the age of threescore and ten should yield in com- 
plete submission to the Catholic faith — strange to 
our human vision. Not strange when viewed 
in the light of God’s mysterious ways. 


158 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


Day after day, uncle comes into mamma’s 

room, to talk with her upon the one subject that en- 
grosses all his thoughts. They got upon the subject 
of Purgatory. N 0 w, mamma herself was not the best 
informed upon this subject. Uncle w'as not satis- 
fied. He could not, all at once, rid himself of the 
tendency to reject everything not particularly 
enlarged upon in the Bible. He took his hat, and 
started for the priest’s house. In an hour or two 
he came back, not only convinced of the existence 
of a Purgatory, but considering it a very necessary 
doctrine of belief. In fact, he didn’t see how he 
had ever got along consistently in his theological 
views, without such a place of abode where venial 
sins might be atoned for, and the soul made pure 
before being admitted to the presence of God. He 
is an inveterate inquirer. Father Burke said to 
him, the other day, that converts were very curious — 
wished to study into and understand everything — 
that they were never satisfied till they died. With 
a 7iative-bor7i Catholic it was different. He did not 
consider it necessary to understand every why and 
wherefore. It was sufficient to know the doctrines 
and rules of the church that he might heed and 
obey them. His faith was without question or 
wavering. He did not accept this or discard that, 
because he fancied an inconsistency to reason; 
the authority of the church he recognized as divine, 
it Avas his duty, therefore, to obey. Uncle has 
become a perfect enthusiast. He went last Sunday 
to the class-meeting, and there announced his 


oVy Into the Light of Catholicity. 1 59 

change of views. Had a thunderbolt fallen in the 
midst, it could not have produced greater con- 
sternation. For Uncle Abner had been so positive 
in coming off victor that he had hinted to no one 
of’ his brethren the battle in which he had been 
engaged. It seems he went on to explain his new 
doctrines somewhat, in the course of his “ experi- 
ence,” when he was put down by cries of “No 
popery ! no popery !” He therefore came out from 
among them, shaking the dust from his feet. 
There was no doubt a great commotion among the 
brothers and sisters when the dust got fairly settled. 
Tlie devil had got one of their number ; it behoov- 
ed them to be on their guard, lest they too fall vic- 
tims to him who was going about like a roaring 
lion. 


i6o The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


XIX. 



E were very busy in the garden, Aunt 
Ruth and I, this beautiful morning of this 
charming May month. Uncle Abner 
was busy with his spade fashioning beds in all sorts 
of geometrical figures, except, perhaps, the square — 
for he had not the correctest eye for angles — and 
we were following in his wake, each with an im- 
promptu cornucopia of the downiest, wind-bewitch- 
ed, vexing little seeds, when, to our regret, we were 
summoned to the house to meet visitors. Aunt 
Ruth being very informal and old-fashioned, and J 
ditto, we contented ourselves by simply washing 
our hands, as preparation for a reception. Three 
elderly ladies greeted us. Two of these, the Misses 
Binghams, I had met before. The third, Mrs. Sands, 
I rightly conjectured from the name to be the wife 
of Mr. Ebenezer Sands, a prominent member of the 
Methodist Society. I judged, from the frequent 
mention of his name in uncle’s family, that he was 
regarded as a leader and an oracle. The elder 
Miss Bingham was a large masculine person of 
about sixty, with no comeliness of form or face. 
She affected high dignity of manner, for the simple 
reason that she could not be easy or graceful. She 
seemed put together a good deal like a machine. 


ory Into the Light of Catholicity. i6i 

and when she moved it was as if by wires. For 
instance, if she moved her head to one side, her 
whole body went with it. Her face was square-cut 
and heavy, her eyes unusually large, staring, and 
prominent. The little children of her acquaintance 
call her Miss Wildcat Nancy, they averring a 
strong resemblance to exist between the faces of 
the spinster and Miss Felme. When Aunt Ruth 
told me this afterwards, I thought they would have 
been dull indeed not to trace such likeness. Her 
sister. Miss Sarah, w^as in every respect her opposite. 
Her petite figure, even at fifty-five, was perfect. 
Her step was quick, elastic ; her movement grace- 
ful as the gazelle’s. She Itad small, delicate features, 
a pretty mouth, a sparkling hazel eye. She would 
have been exceedingly attractive, were it not that 
every motion and every word w^as premeditated. 
Habitually quick as v/ere her gestures, her thought 
was speedier, and debated whether or not they 
were of grace. If “ prunes and prisms ” dwelt not 
ever on her lips, it w’as because “ propriety ” w'as 
always there, and there was no room. These 
sisters, so oddly dissimilar, verify the saying that 
‘‘ Nature is fond of freaks.” Miss Nancy and Miss 
Sarah have no affection for each other, and do 
sparing enough to span the river Charles. I 
smiled as Aunt Ruth related to me this incident : 
Miss Nancy came in one day, having had a violent 
quarrel with “ little sister.” They happened to be 
very hungry at dinner. Their appetites had in- 
creased since they put their potatoes in the oven, 


1 62 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


and the number proved insufficient. There hap- 
pened to be but seven ; each had consumed three. 
Whose should be the fourth ? Nancy declared 
it was hers, because she was sure she had put four 
of her own potatoes in for baking. Sarah was 
equally sure she had put in four of hers. For 
it must be borne in mind that these loving sis- 
ters did not have all things in common, but separ- 
ate and distinct, even down to potatoes and pickles. 
How was this momentous question of the potato to 
to be decided ? Sarah, being quickest of move- 
ment, seized and nearly devoured it before Nancy 
recovered from her impotent rage and disgust. 
“ What was I to do ?” said she slowly and 
emphatically, in relating this to Aunt Ruth. 

What could I do ? I could have pinched her 
into powder — the little minx ! At length, my wits 
came to me, and I looked up at her, and I said, 
‘ Impudence !’ ” This word, however, uttered ever 
so sarcastically, had not annihilated “ little sister ” ; 
for here she was, this day, sitting prim and properly 
in Miss Nancy’s umbrageous shadow, bound to her, 
strange to say, by one single tie, that of Method- 
ism. Much as they differed upon all other points, 
in this they agreed ever. This was the one \\;heel 
to which each could put a shoulder. After the 
usual preliminaries, strangely constrained, Mrs. 
Sands, like a woman of business, broached the sub- 
ject of her morning mission by saying : 

“ Sister - White, we, a committee of three, have 
been chosen by our church to come to talk with 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 163 

you, and to see if you have any fellowship with the 
strange views that your husband seems to have 
taken up with.” 

Aunt Ruth seemed intently engaged in smooth- 
ing out a wrinkle with her forefinger, which had 
crept into her clean, ample white apron. She did 
not reply at once. Miss Nancy’s whole body 
moved, preparatory to a speech ; this, however, 
was nipped in the bud by Miss Sarah’s olf-hand 
readiness : 

“ It is proper that you should know. Sister White, 
how dreadfully scandalized we all feel about Mr. 
White’s defection. There is only one opinion 
about it, however, and that is, that he has been led 
away by undue influences,” glancing at my humble 
self, “ and that, in reality, he is no doubt crazy. I 
have heard more than one person discussing the 
propriety of having him placed in the Lunatic 
Asylum.” 

Whatever he may choose to do,” spake the 
elder Miss. Bingham, “ we see no necessity for you 
to follow. AVe have more confidence in your 
sanity of mind and natural good sense.” 

“ And in your sense of propriety,” broke in Miss 
Sarah, who could never let an opportunity pass for 
bringing in her favorite word. 

And in your regard for old friends and the 
associates of so many years; in your attachment 
to our beautiful new church, and to our dear 
Mr. Green, and his interesting family. Where will 
you find a pleasanter woman than Mrs. Green — 


164 The Heart of Myrrha Lake; , 


though she has her enemies, to be sure — but, then, 
what woman has not ? And she takes such an 
interest in the Dorcas Society! And here are all 
of us, who feel such a deep interest for you ; why, 
we feel as if we cannot give you up. There is no 
one among the rest of the sisters of the church that 
I should send to so soon, in case of sickness, as to 
you — my little Nellie just dotes on you — nobody 
else in the world can get her to take castor-oil ; and 
my little Teddy, when he gets angry at me, as the 
best of children sometimes will, you know, declares 
he is going over to live with Aunt Ruthie. And it 
is just nothing with them all but Aunt Ruthie — 
Aunt Ruthie,” said ]\Irs. Sands, who was somewhat 
disposed to be prolix and digressive. 

“ We are all a good deal like the children,” said 
Miss Nancy. “ We should none of us know what 
to do without Aunt Ruth. If the Lord should see 
fit to take you from us by sickness and death, w'e 
could after a time become reconciled, because we 
must all submit to his will ; but to have you go 
over to the house of abominations — ” 

“ It is never to be thought of — never,” interrupt- 
ed “little sister.” “Nothing could be as impro- 
per; we must do everything in our power; leave 
no stone unturned ; and that is what we are here 
for, this morning, ‘ to pluck you as a brand from the 
burning.’ ” 

“You are very kind — ” attempted Aunt Ruth; 
but Mrs. Sands got the better of her. 

“ There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you, dear 


or^ Into iJie Light of Catholicity. 165 

Sister White, even to furnishing you a home in any 
of our houses. I suppose Brother White will be so 
headstrong there will be no living in the house with 
him, unless you follow in his crooked ways ; but 
don’t you do it — we will all do everything for you ; 
just let him see what he gets by listening to the 
temptations of Satan ; he will find it a hard punish- 
ment for you to refuse to live with him in his old 
age. But if he becomes a Catholic, I suppose 
he will go the whole figure, and think there ought 
to be no marrying or giving in marriage ; and that 
everybody, young and old, ought to live shut up in 
convents.” 

“ Forgetting,” said the lively “ little sister,” 
“ that, when God created Adam, he said ‘ it was 
not good for man to be alone.’ ” 

“Umphl” chimed in her senior; “ how does it 
happen that you have set that sentiment at defiance 
all your life ?” 

“ For the same reason that you have, I suppose,” 
retorted Miss Sarah ; “ for what could be expected 
more proper or natural than that a young girl should 
follow the example of her elder sister ?” 

“ Not so much elder as might be supposed,” 
snapped Miss Nancy, who was very sensitive when- 
ever age was referred to. 

“ Five times three hundred and sixty-five days is 
no small number, arithmetically considered, what- 
ever you may think of it,” flippantly answered back 
the still pretty lips of the diminutive old maid. 

Mrs. Sands, foreseeing a squall, adroitly shifted . 


1 66 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

sails, and put in her oar from a different' stand- 
point : 

“ It is to me the strangest thing in the world 
how any one can see the least sense or meaning in 
the performances at these Catholic churches. If 
you go to what they call the Low Mass, it is all 
nonsense and silence, and words mumbled over 
down in the throat, or through the nose of some 
outlandish foreigner that perhaps can’t speak 
a word of English ; and if you go to what they 
call High Mass, it is like some kind of a play, half- 
pantomime — no worship, no prayers, no reading 
of the Bible, no shouts of Glory to God, no Amens, 
no nothing that anybody on earth or in heaven 
can understand. I’ve no idea they know how 
to make anything out of it themselves. Now, you 
know you can’t like it. Sister White, can you ? 
Don’t you like, a great deal better, a good rousing 
prayer and sermon from Brother Green, who makes 
the house ring with his voice, and tremble when 
his clenched fist comes down on the Bible or the 
pulpit, and Amen comes from every pew — now 
don’t you ?” 

Aunt Ruth, at length really appealed to, replied : 
“No, Mrs. Sands, I cannot say that I do. You 
must not forget that I was brought up a Quakeress; 
and I cling to the quiet and silence of the Quaker 
worship. I have joined the Methodist worship 
only on account of my husband. He liked it, and 
I could put up with it, but it has never suited me. 
Perhaps you have heard of the little girl who, 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity, 167 

when a minister was shouting so loud as to be 
unintelligible, said to her mother : ‘ Mamma, if 
that man was nearer to God, he would not have 
to speak so loud, would he ?’ When my heart is 
nearest to God, I am silent. When I commune 
with him in secret, it is with whispered words. 
But we are not all alike, ladies.” 

“ No, we are not alike,” echoed Miss Nancy. 

“ I don’t know how anybody can help liking 
the Methodists,” said Mrs. Sands warmly. 

“ If I could not be a Methodist, I would never be 
anything,” said little Sarah, with equal warmth. “ I 
love the very ground a Methodist treads on.” 

Her sister Nancy fastened upon the speaker a 
steady gaze, sarcastically rejoining : “No doubt of 
it — particularly the ground that one treads upon — 
a certain widower with a family of only nine small 
children.” 

The little old maiden’s hazel eyes flashed back a 
deal of scorn upon her sister, and she bit her 
scarlet lips, but said never a word. A blush upon 
her face told that her sister knew where to strike.. 

“ We ought to agree to leave widowers alone 
just now,” rather sharply spoke the married lady 
of the committee. “ We came here for a special 
obj.ect, and I don’t see as we are accomplishing 
anything, unless it be in keeping Sister White from 
planting her garden.” 

“ It’s a nice day for putting in seeds,” said Aunt 
Ruth, “ so free from wind ; I always try to make the 
most of such days; they are so scarce in spring-time. ” 


1 68 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


If the ladies took this hint, they made no motion 
to act upon it, for, after a good deal of fidgeting 
and some aside talk among themselves, Mrs. Sands 
again addressed the subject of their mission : 

“ You cannot promise us, then, that you will not 
forsake us, Sister White ?” 

“ I cannot promise you that I shall not go with 
my husband.” 

“ Husband or no husband, I would never go 
wilfully and blind to the bottomless pit,” quoth Miss 
Sarah energetically. 

“ I guess it will be no husband any how,” 
returned her sister, “ as far as you are con- 
cerned.” 

“ Goodness knows, I would give kingdoms if you 
had a husband of your own, that somebody’s head 
besides mine might receive your coals of fire.” 

“ Don’t let them burn you, pray; don’t get hot; 
keep your temper, little sister.” 

Mrs. Sands laughed: “You two couldn’t live, I 
believe, if your tongues were not waging an eternal 
warfare. We know you don’t mean anything 
unkind, but a stranger, to listen to you, would 
thiiik you hated each other, from your serious 
mode of pleasantries. It is really comical.” 

“ The pleasantries are comical,” said Sarah. 

Miss Nancy contented herself with casting at her 
sister a withering glance; then, turning her eyes 
full upon Aunt Ruth, while majestically rising to 
her feet, said : 

“ Then we shall report that you choose to follow 


or. Into iJic Light of Catholicity, 169 

your husband, rather than the goodly rules of 
our Methodist discipline ?” 

“ I shall go with my husband certainly,” was 
the firm, respectful answer. 

“And may God have mercy on your soul,” 
solemnly added the spinster, as if addressing a 
person about to be'hanged. 

“ Thank you !” absently and innocently responded 
the quiet Quakeress. 

“ I suppose, then, we need not even pray for 
you ?” said one. 

“ You always was a little queer, Sister AVhite, 
you and Brother White, too, now that we come 
to think it over,” said another. 

■ “ Extremely odd it is for one to lose all sense 
of propriety, and assume the responsibility of such 
a fearful step,” rapidly spoke little Sarah. 

“ We pity you — and would help you — but you 
won't let us,” was Mrs. Sands’ trembling good-bye. 

“ We wash our hands of all sin in this matter. It 
lies at your own door,” were the last consolatory 
words of Miss Nancy. 

Little Sarah affected to laugh gaily as she darted 
down the door-steps, quoting lightly the words : “ We 
shake the dust from our feet as a testimony against 
you.” And, behold, they were.gone ! 

I opened my mouth for the first time : “ As 
good as a play. But do tell me, aunt, how it 
is that you can allow people to go on in that way, 
and never say one word for yourself?” 

“ I made up my mind, a great many years 


170 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 


ago, that, if people wished to* quarrel with me, 
they should have all the work to do ; all the talk- 
ing, scolding, fretting, railing. In that ‘case, what 
is quarrelling to me ? I keep cool, silent, preserve 
my own self-respect, and, reall}^ the respect of my 
enemy. Come, we must now hurry to make up 
lost time.” And away we sped to the garden, 
almost discouraged at sight of the big beds, ready 
and waiting their tiny deposits. 

Aunt Ruth, that she might work the faster, main- 
tained a steady silence, while I, unmindful of 
my own digital movements, revolved the ladies 
just gone in my mind, their conversation, the 
object of their visit, and their utter ignorance 
of myself, whom they evidently regarded as a 
school-child, beneath their notice. 

Was there not, I questioned, among the con- 
gregation of Methodists, three women better entitled 
to be called ladies in every sense of the word than 
that committee of three ? Doubtless ; but, for some 
reason, “ the weak were chosen to confound the 
foolishness of the wise.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 171 


XX. 



LETTER from Selwyn ! God be praised, 
he has gained the faith ! — he has become 
a Catholic! 

I thought, this bright September morning, sitting 
on the piazza with mamma, bright and almost 
well, by my side, that I was happy as one need be 
in this Y/orld. Uncle and aunt both happy, and 
rejoicing in the new faith, in the old church — 
Catherine living near and coming often to visit us — 
the “nine days’ wonder” of the conversion of 
all of us having been succeeded by some other 
w'onder equally sensational, and we left to pursue 
peacefully our quiet life, what more could we ask ? 
We had given up our home in Ellicott ; we were to 
live henceforth at Uncle Abner’s ; for how could we 
live away from the church ? We had formed pleas- 
ant acquaintances with some intelligent Catholics, 
and found easy access to Catholic literature. 

“ We have such reason to be thankful and 
happy,” I said to mamma only this morning, think- 
ing silently that, in all probability, had we not come 
to Charlestown, she might not have recovered. 

And, now, to-night, we have so much mo 7 'e rea- 
son to be thankful. Here is Selwyn’s letter — it 
shall speak- for itself : 


1/2 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

“ My Dear Myrrha : 

“ I have many words to say to you— a long letter 
to write. First of all, to my dearest friend I must 
impart the surprising fact, the happy truth, that 
the morning of this day — Assumption of the Blessed 
Virgin — I have been received into the church, one, 
holy. Catholic, apostolic. 

“ Is it not meet and proper that next my praise 
and thanksgiving to Almighty God, to whom first I 
owe this inestimable blessing, should come my 
heart’s hymn of thankfulness to Myrrha, whose 
prayers before God’s throne have much availed for 
me ? You said at our last parting — forgive me, 
Myrrha, how unjust I was — ‘ Remember, Selwyn, 
that I shall not forget to pray for you.’ I looked 
into your face as you pronounced the words, and, 
knowing well the earnestness of your nature, I said : 
If human prayer can avail with God, and if 
Myrrha plead with her whole soul in prayer, who 
shall say if I stand or fall ? I therefore remembered 
your words. In truth, they were nearly all I had 
to remember, for, in my blindness and passion, I 
had scarcely given you the opportunity to speak. 
Allow me again to express my profound regret for 
my injustice and unkindness, Myrrha. I will give 
you my history from the beginning. After gradu- 
ation at Yale, I shortened my proposed visit to my 
parents; for Ellicott was not home to me, since 
Myrrha was no longer there ! Accordingly, I 
embarked for Europe a month earlier than I had 
designed. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 173 

“ On the eve of my departure from New York, 

I was sauntering aimlessly down one of the princi- 
pal streets, when a large crowd gathered around 
a church attracted my attention. Impelled by 
something, I know not what, I made my way 
through this swaying multitude, until I found my- 
self standing with many thousands within the walls 
of what I at once found to be a Catholic church. 
A mission was being held. A thousand lights 
were blazing before the altars. Flowers of every 
variety, exquisite in fragrance and infinite in num- 
ber, adorned every conceivable lodging-place, mak- 
ing glad and beautiful the temple of God. Before 
the principal altar, beside the mission cross, stood 
the priest of God. He was an elderly man, tall in 
stature, with an athletic frame. The blaze of the 
many candles seemed to create a kind of glory 
around his gray hair ; while the fire of his eye 
glowed and kindled anew, as burning Avords of 
eloquence flowed from his lips. I was late, and 
the sermon was nearly concluded. I learned from 
the closing words that this was the last night of the 
mission. The exercises that followed made upon 
me a very deep impression — nothing among them 
more so than what was called a renewal of the 
baptismal vows. I was so taken by surprise, and 
the scene is so confused in my memory, that I 
cannot recall distinctly the precise questions : I 
remember well, however, and shall never forget, 
the effect upon me of those solemn words and re- 
sponses : 


1 74 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

“ ^ Do you promise to renounce the pomps and 
vanities of the world ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ deep and earnest from the vast throng, 
while every hand was uplifted from amidst that 
living sea of forms. 

‘‘ ‘ Do you promise to obey the commandments of 
God, the precepts of his holy church ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ as if spoken from the depths of many 
waters. 

“ ‘ Do you promise not to frequent grogshops, 
liquor-saloons, and similar immoral places ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ with the hand uplifted still to heaven, and 
tears raining down from many a manly face and 
woman’s quivering cheek. 

“ ‘ Do you promise to uphold at every time and 
circumstance the teachings of our holy faith, to 
advance all that in you lies the progress of our 
holy mother, the church ?’ 

“ And again the emphatic ‘ Yes ’ swelled as upon 
billowy waves. 

“ My eyes became riveted upon the missioner. 
It needed but a glance to see that he was a person 
of remarkable power. He was commanding in 
manners, attitude, and voice. There was about 
him a strength irresistible, combined with a certain 
gentleness that wins alike your respect and your 
trust. 

“ As beneath the mission cross he stretched forth 
his arms, and bestowed upon that human sea of 
palpitating hearts — now stirred to its profoundest 
depths — the Papal benediction, his form seemed to 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 175 


tower up in magnitude, and his face to be lighted 
up as with the glory of those transfigured on the 
Mount. I thought him a St. Peter in zeal, a St. 
Paul in knowledge and power, a St. John in love. 
My dear Myrrha, it is wonderful how my heart did 
homage to that man. I forgot that he was not of 
my faith. I forgot that he was a teacher of 
idolatry, a preacher of superstition and folly. I 
only thought that if I were a Christian, I could fol- 
low such a leader through fire and flood — that 
I could confidingly lay my hand in his, so to speak, 
sure that he would lead me to the heavenly city. 

‘‘ As I went out of the church, half-borne by the 
crowd, I was seized with an impulse to seek the 
missioner, if but to clasp one moment his hand. 
This Was impossible, and next moment was suc- 
ceeded by the thought of its absurdity. My mind 
was overwrought by heat and excitement — the 
fresh air wguld dispel my infatuation, and restore 
me to myself. The following morning, after a 
somewhat restless night, during which I lived over 
again the events of the evening, I found myself on 
board the steamer, bound for the Old World. 

“ I stood on deck, watching the passengers as 
they came in hurried crowds; for it really seemed 
that every traveller, ocean-bound, had multitudes 
of friends to whom to bid adieu — every one but 
myself. TJie leave-takings made me feel quite like 
one who ‘ treads alone some banquet-hall deserted,’ 
etc. At length came a crowd larger than the rest, 
which, as it approached nearer, most of the by- 


1/6 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

standers joined. Imagine my surprise to behold in 
the midst the gray hair, the majestic form of the 
missioner. Yes, Myrrha, he was to be my fellow- 
passenger on the wide sea. I felt a sudden thrill ; 
whether of gladness or regret, I knew not. 

“ Such an exhibition of love and reverence for 
mortal man I never before witnessed as was paid 
to this reverend apostle by men and women, rich 
and poor, gray-haired and youthful. They knelt to 
him for his blessing there upon the dusty pier, 
they kissed his hand, they shed torrents of tears, 
they could not let him go. I might have marvel- 
led at this man’s wonderful hold upon the affections 
of his people had I not, on the previous evening, 
strangely to myself, felt an unaccountable attraction. 
Many times I brushed away the mist from before 
my eyes with my handkerchief that I might the bet- 
ter see, unmindful at the moment that the mist was 
but that of tears. 

“ The partings were all over at length — snowy 
handkerchiefs waved, and we were launched on the 
sea — not that sea ‘ that rolls around all the world.’ 
As I watched the receding shores, I thought of 
you, Myrrha, and, strange to say, since our last 
wretched parting you had not seemed so near. 
Your words, ‘ Remember, Selwyn, I shall never for- 
get to pray for you,’ came to me as if freshly 
spoken, and with prophetic warning of the availa- 
bility of those prayers at heaven’s throne. Although 
animated with the greatest desire to make the 
acquaintance of the missioner, and though I had 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 177 

frequent opportunities of doing so, it was several 
days before I could summon courage to address 
him. I had made m)^self wretched by a harassing 
struggle against lifelong prejudice, one hour resolv- 
ing that I would for ever ‘ roll it as a sweet morsel 
under my tongue ’ — the next, that surely no harm 
could ensue from learning at a competent source 
what were indeed the doctrines of the church. I 
was influenced finally by a curiosity to discover, 
if possible, wherein lay the enchantments which had 
fascinated women so intelligent as yourself and 
your mother. 

“ I was still undecided when, suddenly meeting 
him, a momentary impulse urged me to address 
him. He was evidently surprised at the brusque- 
ness of my attack, for, before I gave him time for 
reply, I poured out, all at once, what had been in 
my mind since I first listened to his voice. Before 
he spoke to me, he looked at me intently with 
those soul-searching eyes of his, then, glancing 
upward and spreading forth his hands, whispered 
words in Latin : I think, now, he was thanking 
God for my awakening ; I do not know. We sat 
down together — not that day only, but day after 
day — and I learned from the lips of this dear old 
man, this holy priest, this devoted missionary of the 
Society of Jesus, the wonderful story of the cross. 

‘^Had I not heard it before now as ^a tale 
that is told ’ ? It was a new history, a divine 
testament — to my soul a gospel. I need not tell 
to you, a happy convert, how one by one new 


178 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

truths dawned — not dawned, but burst upon my 
mental vision; how beautiful arose the fabric of 
the church ; how clear, how harmonious stood forth 
her doctrines ; how grand in her age, her heroism, 
her battles, her victories, in her saints, her martyrs, 
her holy children; how glorious in her armor of 
charity, her shield of faith, her anchor of hope : 
nor how faded and far back flitted the whited 
sepulchre of heresy, the pale ghost of Protestantism — 
you know it all, thank God ! You will not wonder 
that I believed implicitly the words of this priest of 
God. You, at least, will understand that God in 
his mercy had given me the one thing needful, the 
gift of faith. You will, with me, believe that the 
Supreme Arbiter of our lives sent me to learn his 
will and truth from the lips of his holy servant — as 
he sent Paul to Ananias— as he sent Cornelius to 
Simon. 

“Need I say more to you? I rearranged my 
plan, and came directly to Rome, that I might not 
be separated from my venerable friend. We arrived 
but the day before yesterday. With what different 
eyes shall I view the wonders of the Eternal City ? — 
with what new sentiments gaze upon the monu- 
ments of superstition and ignorance ? And now, 
Myrrha — ” Enough ! I will quote no more. 


ors Into the Light of Catholicity. 179 


XXL 

ARNOLD is Aunt Ruth’s neighbor 
d most intimate friend. She has been 
ng anticipating a visit from her eldest 
daughter, Mrs. Gilfillan, who has for many years 
resided in the far West — Dakota. A few 'days ago 
this W esterner arrived ; to-day she has paid us a 
visit. 

“You will excuse us for coming so early in 
the morning,” she said, introductions being scarcely 
over, “ but indeed I could not wait. Mother has 
been telling me about you. I find there is a double 
bond of sympathy, Mrs. Lake, between you and 
myself; first, in my having been, like you, a sufferer 
from a severe affection of the eyes ; second, in 
having become, like yourself, a convert to the true 
church.” 

Mrs. Gilfillan arose, and, wheeling an ottoman 
across the room, seated herself upon it, between 
mamma and myself. 

“ And for this last reason,” she continued, “ you 
seem near and dear to me. I find on my return 
many old friends of my childhood and youth ; but 
there is not one among them all for whom my 
heart has ^o warm a welcome as for you, strangers 
in the flesh, united to me in spirit by the bonds of 
faith.” 



i8o The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

She is, perhaps over-enthusiastic, but sincerely 
and ardently attached to her religion. Although 
she has been several years in the church, she never 
informed her mother of the same until now. Vain 
would be all words in a letter to remove that 
mother’s lifelong prejudice; now, she could talk 
and explain day after day, “ from the rising of the 
sun until the going down thereof,” and; if she 
failed to convince, might persuade her of her own 
thorough happiness in the great change of her life. 

“ How did I become a Catholic ?” in answer 
to our • questions. “Well, in a very simple way. 
But I will go back a little. I was baptized by 
immersion at the age of thirteen. When I married 
Mr. Gilfillan, as he could not become a Baptist, 
I became, like himself, a Presbyterian, that we 
might be together in the same church. From the 
first we were careless Christians. Gradually, more 
and more came the world almost completely 
between my soul and its God. As a consequence, 
the faith of my girlhood, which had been strong 
in God and in revealed religion, became weakened, 
almost destroyed. 

“ After years of indifference, of doubt, of unbelief, 
and oh ! such spiritual unrest at times, I began to 
wish I could believe with all my heart. If I could 
have that unquestioning faith which was mine for 
the first few years after my baptism by immersion, 
I would give all the world ! Was it for ever gone ? 
Should I find it no more on earth? Two of my 
little children had gone through ‘ the valley of the 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. i8i 

shadow of death/ and, though I tried to fancy them 
in heaven, it was all darkness between me and 
them. Had their souls gone out in the night of 
annihilation, whither my own should follow ? And 
should we know each other no more for ever ? O 
my God ! what a thought ! 

“ If I could only have faith, and could I but 
know just what to believe — could a voice from 
heaven but speak to me ! I had come to that. 
So, when I read in the Atlantic Mofithly ‘ Our Ro- 
man Catholic Brethren,’ and directly afterward saw 
on a neighbor’s -table Aspirations of Nature^ by 
the same Hecker made mention of in the magazine 
article, which book I borrowed and read, I began 
to think there might be something in a religion of 
which I was so utterly ignorant. 

“ We were early settlers in Dakota, and lived 
on the frontier. My husband soon after became 
acquainted with an aged Catholic missionary, a 
Prussian priest, who had labored among the In- 
dians forty years. He could not speak a word 
of English. Mr. Gilfillan conversed with him in 
Latin. He spoke French, but so fluently that I 
could understand but slightly. He was several 
times at our house. My very first thought favor- 
able to Catholicity came over me as I looked into 
the venerable face of this good old man ; for 
everybody pronounced him good, and by his 
Indians he was idolized. I asked , Could it be any- 
thing but a devoted love to God that had made 
this man in the prime of his life leave country, 


1 82 The Heart of My rrha Lake; 


home, and friends to dwell among savages, far 
from the refinements, nay, from all the comforts of 
civilization ? 

“I had not seen this good father for several 
years ; he went with his savages further to the 
west; but I often recalled his benevolent face 
when I first began to question after reading Aspi- 
rations. He came up in my memory, and his 
presence seemed to hover around me like a bene- 
diction. Since I know more of the faith of Catho- 
lics in prayer, I believe he prayed for me when he 
came to our house. .1 conversed with him so 
little, but now I seem to have known him so well. 

“ A priest of the Benedictine Order had gathered 
together the scattered Catholics in our vicinity, 
and built a small church, where he said Mass two 
Sundays in a month. Somehow, we got in the 
habit of going. There were those who said my 
husband went through policy, as, being a politician, 
he wanted to secure Irish votes. There was no 
truth in this. He liked to hear Father Aylward 
preach, because, as he said, ‘ his sermons were so 
practical he could remember them all the week 
through.’ 

“ If at first we went partly through curiosity and 
love of novelty, it was not long before I, at least, 
was thirsting for that sure faith that should be unto 
me the bread of life. 

“ We were invited to an exhibition at St. John’s 
College, at the Abbey of St. Louis on the lake, 
some twelve miles distant. We were late, and 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity, 183 

exercises had commenced, in a beautiful grove, 
partially artificial. The first thing that attracted 
me, after being conducted to a seat, was a cross 
cut in the bark of a tree near me. The cross ! I 
had seen it in pictures, and as New England guide- 
boards ; and I had seen it rise bright and golden 
from Catholic churches in these cities by the sea, 
but this was the first time I was ever affected by 
the sight of the cross. 

“ We went in to dinner. In the hall was a cross — 
in the dining-room was the cross and the crucifix — 
in every room was the cross ! I was oppressed, 
impressed, and awed. There were pictures of 
saints, among the rest St. John, looking up into 
heaven with such wonderful eyes, his hands clasped 
in rapt intensity. 

“ It would be very easy to be good in such 
a place as this, I thought. One couldn’t be any- 
thing else. It is holy ground. It was a relief to 
get out again, and ride through the grand forest, 
and breathe freely, knowing that the suffering 
Saviour was not looking down upon us agonizingly 
from the crucifix upon the wall. But never, never 
since, does it seem to me, has he ceased regarding 
me with those pleading eyes that have won me 
irresistibly. At the opening of the next session, we 
entered our young son as pupil. One day we rode 
up to visit him. It was cold, and Father Alexius, 
one of the professors, took us into his room, where 
was a good fire. He called in Father Aylward, 
whose home was here also. While my husband 


1 84 J-he Heart of MyrrJia Lake 

■vvas talking with them, and I had recovered com- 
fort from the warmth, I began to glance about me 
from under my hat-brim. 

All at once, it had flashed upon my mind that 
this was a monk’s room; and, as it was probably 
the only visit — as indeed it was-— I should be ever 
l^rivileged to make to such a mediaeval institution, 
I must make the most of it. 

“ My first thought, then, was of trap-doors lead- 
ing down to inquisitorial regions. It is easy enough 
to havd faith in such things when we read of them 
as being beyond seas ; but to sit in a cultivated, 
scholarly gentleman’s room, who is easy, polite, 
deferential, and has not a look die least bit cruel, 
even though he wears the cowl, these ghosts of 
trap-doors and instruments of torture depart as 
suddenly as they came. 

“ More effectually were they put to flight when, 
raising my eye from the white floor, it met the 
crucifix fastened to the wall, where it should meet 
the eye from a kneeling posture. I cannot tell 
what that little crucifix said to me. Not that I 
have forgotten ; I cannot forget. But then and 
there it solemnly and silently denied all the calum-* 
nies that had ever been heaped upon the religion it 
represents. 

“ ‘ Why am I here,’ it said, ‘ if it be not to speak 
unto my owner of the Lord and Master, whom he 
so much loves as to venerate even the voiceless 
image of the Divine ?’ 

^ There were plenty of books, in all languages, 


or y Into the Light of Catholicity. 185 

upon the table and upon the shelves; but, had 
they all found voice, and spoken to me the wonder- 
ful history and truths I have since learned from 
their pages, they would not have been more con- 
vincing or so affecting as the un worded story of 
that simple crucifix. Here was my inspiration for 
becoming a Catholic ! 

“ Then came over me a thought of the impossible 
doctrines. And when a little later we went up to 
visit Father Aylward’s library, I greatly wished he 
would offer me some books, being too dull to think 
that he would be glad to loan them if I would but 
ask. 

“ I ventured to say at length that there was one 
doctrine in the church which I could never believe — 
transubstantiation. 

“ ‘ It could be proved to you,’ said Father Alexius, 
with unusual seriousness. 

“ Whereupon Father Ayl ward took down Cardinal 
Wiseman’s volume on the Holy Eucharist, with this 
simple remark : ‘ Here is a book containing the 
whole subject.’ 

“ I would like it, I said, and I brought it away, 
with two or three others. 

“After this, Father Aylward kindly supplied me 
with books that were so new and wonderful. How 
had I lived so long, and known nothing of a reli- 
gion so adapted to the reason and the heart of us 
poor mortals ? What a new world was opened to 
me ! 

“ Well, this is enough. You are converts. You 


1 86 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

know how I went along, till at length I was 
received into the church. Friends marvelled at my 
delusion, prophesying I would be as glad to get out 
ere two years as I was eager to go in. They were 
false prophets. I believe more fully to-day than 
ever that the Church Catholic is the church of the 
living God. I reverence more fully her teachings 
and her laws. Constantly I learn something new 
from her vast storehouse of wisdom and grace. 
God knew what the human heart needed, and he 
adapted his religion to meet all its wants. It 
teaches man truly how to repent of his sins. It 
forces him from his stronghold of pride, vanity, and 
self-conceit. It humbles him to the dust, in order 
that it may elevate him to heaven. It restrains, 
guides, and encourages. It is the one religion that 
embraces the whole spirit of Christ’s teachings. It 
is beautiful — divine.” 

Mrs. Gilfillan did not say this all at once, in a set 
speech. She was often interrupted by question and 
remark. This, however, is the substance of her 
“ experience,” given nearly as possible in her own 
words. We were much interested, and enjoyed 
a pleasant day in her society. To-morrow we are 
to visit with her the conventual houses of the Good 
Shepherd and the Sacred Heart. Mrs. McDonald, 
one of our new Catholic friends, will be our 
chaperone. 

Shall I sleep to-night? Yes; prayer calms all 
restlessness. And has not “ my heart for ever set 
up its rest in thee, my God ” ? 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity: 187 


XXII. 



HAVE taken a first glance at conventual 
life. It was only a glimpse, but it was 
like looking into heaven. Not that it is 
given us while on earth really to look into heaven ; 
but if, when heaven shall be opened to us, all the 
faculties of the soul, the emotions of the mind, the 
affection and reverence of the whole spiritual nature, 
shall be aroused and called into exercise, may not 
that which produces this effect, though necessarily 
in an imperfect degree, be like and next to heaven ? 

It is strange how, when once convinced a thing 
is right, however open to objection it may have 
seemed, new light breaks in, new arguments spring 
up spontaneously, and one is led to w'onder why he 
had been so long blind. Having come to believe 
fully in the Catholic Church, consequently to dis- 
believe the calumnies of her enemies, I had come 
to think that convents might be indeed houses of 
God, and refuges of rest and quiet for weary souls. 

Accustomed, however, by previous habits of 
thought, to question and doubt all that I did not 
quite understand, I presumed to think it well 
enough that, in progress of time, conventual life 
had, for the most part, gone into disuse. Those 
levellers of costly structures, massive abbeys, and 
retired convents might not have been such out- 


1 88 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


rageoiis vandals. Did not the wicked world need 
all the offices of the good ? And, as to the bad 
should they live in ease and luxury in those grand 
old castles, embowered in forests of shrubbery and 
beauty ? Since reading Montalembert’silf^?;//^^ of 
the West, a “ change has come over the spirit of 
my dream.” Often, in reading these volumes, 
when I have beheld the spirit of the world clashing 
with the spirit of the church, ready with his iron 
heel to trample upon the vine of Christ’s planting, 
ready with ruthless myrmidons to overwhelm the 
feebler band of the soldiers of the cross, I have 
wondered why a red sea did not uproll to divide 
them, or why appeared not from heaven cherubim 
with flaming sword to cut off the hand of vandal- 
ism. Surely, something from on high has inter- 
vened; otherwise the church, so assaulted as by 
infernal powers, would not now exist, still less 
have life so vigorous and glorious. 

I had thought to see in the sisters only 

ordinary mortals -^A little more sedate, stern, old- 
maidish — with a speaking presence — “ holier than 
thou.” Instead, I saw angels — angels in the guise 
of women. You do not behold such faces in the 
world. They would harden, grow old, and wear 
marks of the chafings of the spirit, as do those who 
have to battle with the storms of life. Like tropic 
flowers they would lose their bloom in a chillier 
clime. Their atmosphere of praise and prayer is 
altogether another from that outside. It is not for 
one to say through what watchings and prayers 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity. 189 

they have attained unto a life so spiritual that it 
may be read in every lineament of the face. Nor 
are they ever idle. And what a labor is theirs — a 
mission like their divine Lord’s to call sinners to 
repentance.. Truly, such as these are they of whom 
it is said : “ They shall follow the Lamb whitherso- 
ever he goeth.” The house itself is beautiful, 
orderly, seemingly without stain even of a particle of 
dust. How is it possible to keep everything so 
spotless ? Pictures adorn the walls, and passages 
of Scripture in black letters upon white ground 
hang here and there. The little chapel is a marvel 
of grace and purity ; it would seem that the Divinity 
upon the altar has infused holiness into senseless 
matter. 

After taking everything in a bewildered glance, 
mamma’s emotions overpowered her, and she sob- 
bed out her appreciation. To all that was said to 
her, she could only reply that she had never an 
idea that there was such a place or such a people 
upon earth ! 

“ I believe you would like to remain here, mam- 
ma,” I said. 

“ Yes ; I would like to stay,” she replied. “ But 
for you, Mynha, I would go out no more.” 

And were it not for Selwyn, I said mentally, here 
is where I would take up my abode, live and die. 
For, verily, this is the house of God, and here the 
very gate to heaven. 

I speak of both houses as one — the Good 
Shepherd — the Sacred Heart. The same spirit 


1 90 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

pervaded each — that of purity, sanctity. To mam- 
ma and myself it was a first glimpse of conventual 
life. Was it “ fair and comely in appearance, while 
within full of rottenness and dead men’s bones ” ? 
Away with the question ! A vicious mind alone 
could ask it. 

Coming out of houses of such peace and quiet 
yet steady industry, gathering the dust of earth 
upon my feet, and the spirit of the world upon my 
mind, my excited thought held an “ indignation 
meeting,” and resolved, that whereas, by all out- 
side of the Catholic Church, conventual life is mis- 
represented and cruelly maligned, therefore each 
and every one of the protesting world should be 
forced at least once in a lifetime to visit a convent, 
that henceforth ignorance might be no plea, and 
that upon many a soul a heavenly blessing, un- 
awares, might fall. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 191 


XXIII. 

HREE days ago came another letter from 
Selwyn. Here it is in its completeness : 

“ Myrrha : What need to say ‘ Dear 
Myrrha,’ for the simple sound of your name em- 
bodies every term of endearment ? Myrrha — 
richer than gold, more precious than frankincense, 
sweeter than myrrh. Beautiful is the name, be- 
cause worn by one who adorns it exceedingly. I 
would not flatter you ; I am above descending to 
that folly ; I know you to be above receiving it 
with pleasure. I speak thus, confident that, in 
what I am about to say, the noble nature of 
Myrrha will assert itself, and she will be magnani- 
mously true to the friend of her youth, to her con- 
science, and her God. 

“ I will come to the point at once, Myrrha. I 
ask you to release me from my promise of mar- 
riage. 

“ You may have inferred from my former letters, 
or, at least, intuitively divined, that since my con- 
version, almost from the first, I have had aspira- 
tions for a higher life. I have combated these 
with every human weapon, that broke at length in 
my hand like glass. 

“ It is due to 'you, Myrrha, to whom so much of 
my inner life is known, to acquaint you with the 



192 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

struggle through which I have passed. It has 
been a bitter trial to bring myself able to ask the 
betrothed of my youth to yield up her claim. And 
even now I do not demand, but simply ask it. 

“ You prayed that I might have the fulness of 
the Catholic faith. If God has more than answered 
your petition, and transferred my devotion to him- 
self, it is because he is wiser than ourselves, and 
knows better than we what is for our ultimate 
good and his greater glory. I did not make a 
leap into this decision — contingent upon your con- 
sent — of entering the priesthood, as I seemed to 
into Catholicity. The thought always occurred to 
me with this prevision — were it not for Myrrha, 

Myrrha ! the bright dream of my boyhood, 
the one love of my life; Myrrha! the name was 
written in pencil all over my school-books; its 
mystic letters found form amid the mazes of Le- 
gendre and the unknown quantities of Bourdon. 
The thought of Myrrha was as a refreshing draught 
after a toilsome translation, as a gleam of light 
after a labyrinthian thesis. She was the poetry of 
my existence, the rainbow to scatter every cloud. 

“ And this, Myrrha, so much a dream, a fancy, a 
myth, was reality, was my betrothed, was to have 
been my wife I If I had not Myrrha, I would give 
myself to God alone. How excellent ! — how exalted 
to live only for God! I looked with wonder upon 
the priest ministering at the altar. I began to 
envy him his sacred position so near to the divine 
Son. And who was this priest ? A mortal like 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 193 

myself. A child in his father’s house, he had 
known the sweets of family ties. He may have 
had the love of brother and sister; perhaps a love 
tenderer, as mine for Myrrha. 

‘ And he left all and followed him.’ 

Left all ! If he left only that which scarcely 
gave him pain to leave, wherein was the self-denial, 
where the taking up of the cross ? 

“ In my admiration of the new faith, in my enthu- 
siasm and love for the Divine Martyr, I felt a will- 
ingness to lay down my life, if need be, for the 
glorious triumph of Christianity, yet I could not 
give up Myrrha, who was more and dearer than 
life. Daily, hourly came the question to my soul, 
^ Will you give up all and follow Jesus ?’ Invariably 
the silent answer of my heart was, ^ All — all but 
Myrrha.’ 

“ Had I great possessions ? I would give them 
up. Should I be for ever an exile from the land 
of my birth, from my parents and sisters ? I could 
bear it without a murmur. But this other sacri- 
fice, it was more than losing an eye — moje costly 
than cutting off the right hand. 

“ Was I, then, unworthy the kingdom of God ? 
God did not require such sacrifices, I reasoned. 
There were enough to do his work; the world was 
full of laborers. I was but one ; how little could 
my single hand and heart do for God ! 

“ In vain I reasoned, argued, and opposed. Back 
came the solemn words, ‘ Unless you take up your 
cross, and follow me, ye cannot be my disciple.’ 


194 Heart of Myrrha Lake; 

Why do I thus weary you by a recapitulation 
of my struggles and contests ? At length, I sought 
counsel from my friend and spiritual father, the 
Jesuit missioner. I unfolded to him the whole 
story. He listened attentively, and when at the 
close I said, ‘You know all now, father, I place the 
matter in your hands, and will abide by your deci- 
sion,’ I experienced a sort of relief, having thrown 
off the responsibility upon one more experienced 
and more used to burdens. 

“ This, however, was of short duration, for, much 
to my surprise, he thus replied : ‘ As to your receiv- 
ing holy orders, I cannot decide for you, my son. 
This is a matter between you and your God. To 
him must you answer for your decision. If he has 
called you to the holy vocation of the priesthood, 
he will give you strength to renounce the dearest 
earthly ties. As yet, however, you are not at 
liberty to make, even yourself, a final decision. 
You are under vows of solemn betrothal. The 
church regards betrothal as but one step from 
niarriagej neither party can alone dissolve the 
contract. You cannot solemnly devote yourself to 
the service of God in the sacrament of holy order, 
while already under vows unfulfilled or uncancelled. 
Your proper way is to write to your betrothed, 
stating your aspirations for a higher life, and asking 
her free consent to the annulment of your mar- 
riage contract.’ 

‘“'But I do not wish to do tbis, until fully decided 
as to my future life,’ I replied, disappointed. ‘ I do 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 195 

not wish to be released from engagement to Myr- 
rha, until I know God wills me to become a priest.’ 

“ ‘By this may you know, my son, his will con- 
cerning thee : when, freely, of your own accord, you 
place your hand upon your mouth, and your mouth 
in the dust, and cry, “ Here am I, Lord, what wilt 
thou have me to do ?” then will your ear be opened 
that you can hear his heavenly answer. But first 
should you be in readiness to act upon it, by being 
disengaged from the object of your affection.’ 

“ ‘ I am confident, father,’ I said, ‘ that I have but 
to write to Myrrha upon the subject, and she will 
release me without a word of dissent.’ 

“ ‘ Possibly,’ he returned. ‘ But there is an injus- 
tice in taking many months for your own consider- 
ation, and expecting a decision from her in as many 
minutes. Give her the same length of time as you 
have taken, or may still require. Would you be 
unjust because you count upon her magnanimity ?’ 

“ ‘ I think, however, my chief trouble is in giving 
her up,’ I responded mournfully. 

“ ‘ “ You will read in Thomas k Kempis,’ replied 
this good Jesuit father: 

a < « -^Yg niust leave what is beloved, for the sake 
of the Beloved. 

“ ‘ “ Sooner or later thou must be separated from 
all, whether thou wilt or no. 

“ ‘ “ The nature of thy Beloved is such that he 
will not admit of a rival; but he will have thy heart 
for himself alone, and sit as king upon his own 
throne.” 


196 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


“ ‘ Spend a few more days in thought, then come 
back to me.’ 

“ Left to myself, I more than once thought I 
had decided to cling to my idol. Had not God 
inspired me with this tender love ? Why should I 
be called upon to renounce it, while all the world 
clasped it so closely ? It was of no use, I was not 
my own master; ‘ the Spirit of God was upon me.’ 

“ Several brief notes lie upon my table addressed 
to you, coldly asking you to release me. They 
would chill you, as they do even myself, and I 
cannot send them. No ; you must know all, and 
it is a relief to me thus to unburthen myself. I am 
coming to the close now. 

“ Last night I joined in the celebration of the 
Christmas festival. At the church, in the light, 
amid the incense and the sweet sounds, I had been 
uplifted, as it were, unto the ‘ seventh heaven.’ I 
returned to my solitary room, which was in dark- 
ness — more deep from the blaze of light I had just 
left — more silent from the almost unearthly music 
that had but just entranced me. ... In the 
morning I had said, ‘ I will live for Myrrha.’ After 
a season of trial, which only the eye of God may 
penetrate in the earliest dawn Of another morning, 
my hands, which for hours had been folded in 
prayer, were uplifted in praise to God who had 
given me the victory. I cried in exultation, * I will 
live for him, who died for me.’ The sacrifice was 
accomplished, the conquest was complete ; and my 
Myrrha floated away like the vanishing bird, whose 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 197 

wings are plumed for heaven. I went to early 
Mass to offer my thanksgiving, and from thence to 
my dear missioner’s room. I was surprised at the 
fervor of his congratulations. 

“ ‘ I did not think,’ I said to him, ‘ that you would 
share so greatly in my joy. On the contrary, I 
felt almost hurt at the indifference you manifested 
W'hen I left all to you a few days back.’ 

“ ‘ And yet afterwards, I reproached myself lest I 
might have said aught to influence you. Gladly 
would I have said, “ Live, my son, that higher life so 
beautiful in the sight of heaven ; join the army of 
those who, by grace, have been enabled to trample 
the world under their feet, and to take hold with 
their hands on heaven,” but I might not. You will 
be the more 'strong and secure for the prolonged 
struggle. Had another spoken the word for you, 
you might have hesitated and looked back. . Now, 
you will go forward resolute and brave, provided 
always that you become released from your be- 
trothed. For I have already warned you that you 
are not at liberty even to arrive at an unalterable 
decision until after hearing from Myrrha.’ 

‘‘ ‘ I understand that, father; but I know so well 
what her answer will be that it is all the same 
as though it were before my eyes. IVIy chief diffi- 
culty was to gain my own consent.’ 

“ ‘ We do not even know ourselves ; much less 
can we count upon knowing the nature of another. 
Your victory over yourself, however, will, in any 
case, constitute for you an element of strength. I 


t 

198 The Heart of My rr ha Lake; 

am an old man, my son. I have lived many 
years, yet even to me life appears like a vapor that 
vanishes away. At most, it is but a shadow of the 
life which is to come. It is for that future life we 
are to live and prepare. Therefore it does not 
become us to gather treasures for this world alone. 
And, after all, is there no compensation in self- 
sacrifice ? If the object of your regard be removed 
by death, you submit, biit what reward have you ? 
Your submission is not voluntary, but forced, and 
inevitable. If you gi^e her up voluntarily for the 
love of God, does not the struggle, the pain, the 
conquest, but unite you the more intimately to the 
divine mind ? No sacrifice is too great for one we 
love. If we love our Saviour more than all, we 
yield all for him. Nor that alone; we rejoice that 
we can manifest that love by so great a sacrifice. 
Should, it please God that you enter the priesthood, 
you will come up on the great field, as I am about 
to leave.’ 

“ ‘ Oh! that your mantle might descend upon me, 
my father.’ And I knelt to him for his blessing. 

‘‘ I kneel to you also, Myrrha, in spirit, laying 
this letter before you, with all its incoherences. 
Forgive me, Myrrha, and — A Dieii, 

“ Selwyn.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 199 


XXIV. 

was usual, mamma read Selwyn’s letter 
after I had finished it. 

“ Had such a thought occurred to 
you ?” she questioned. 

“ No;. most strange to say, it never had.” 

“ It did to me, though I could not speak of it. 
And what will you say to him ?” 

“ What will I say hut yes — thricej<fj / — and God 
bless him !” proceeding to my writing-desk. 

“ You will not write now; be not so precipitate ; 
give yourself time for reflection. Even a few days 
may make a great revolution in your mind.” 

“All time could not change me, mamma. To 
me he is dead and buried, and, rising from his 
grave, let me say with Eugenie de Guerin, ‘ Let 
me throw myself into eternity.’ My life — my work, 
too, shall be for God.” 

“ But, my child, it is so sudden ; how can you 
bear it ?” 

“ Bravely, mamma, as you shall see. God will 
help me.” And a little hymn or anthem which I 
had learned in my prayer-book, and which I was 
fond of repeating, came into my mind, and I 
repeated it at this time with more earnestness than 
before : 



200 


The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 


“ O Sanctissima, O purissima, 

Dulcis Virgo Maria ! 

Plater amata, intemerata, 

Ora, ora pro nobis. 

“ Tota pulchra es, O Maria ! 

Et macula non est in te. 

Mater amata, intemerata, 

Ora, ora pro nobis. 

“ Sicut lilium inter spinas 
Sic Maria inter filias. 

Plater amata, intemerata. 

Ora, ora pro nobis.” 

I felt suddenly thrown into communion with our 
Holy Mother, and with all the saints that have ever 
suffered. I felt a blissful certainty that it was given 
unto the very angels to hear, and to respond to my 
fervent Ora^ ora pro nobis. 

“ I will write my letter now, mamma, but to 
please you I will not send it for at least a day or 
two.” 

“ In so important a step, Myrrha, upon which 
your whole future depends, I think you should 
consult Father Burke.” 

“ Yes, dear mamma, I will, after I have written 
my letter. I am quite confident he will say I am 
right; but it will be some comfort to hear him say 
so.” Then I commenced : 

“ Dear Selwyn : Three days ago I knelt in the 
little chapel at the convent of the Sacred Heart. 
Meditating and praying before the altar, whereon 
our Blessed Lord is perpetually worshipped, the 
question came from my lips, ‘ What can I do for 
thee, my Lord and my God ? How can I show 


or. Into the Light of Catholicity. 201 

my gratitude — my love for the gift of this precious 
faith ? What can I give up, wliat do, for thy dear 
sake, who suffered on the cross for me ?’ 

I dared not think he had an answer in store for 
me. But he had, and I heard and recognized it 
while reading your letter. It is not you alone who 
has demanded that I withdraw my heart from its 
earthly love; God our Father has spoken unto 
you, and, through you, unto me also. 

“ I will not falter, Selwyn, nor will I fail. And 
I pray God, henceforth my only Beloved, that, 
in this act of self-sacrifice, there be no taint of vain- 
glory. This moment, I rejoice to renounce you for 
God. This moment, when, by your own self-con- 
quest, you have become more worthy of woman’s 
love, Avhen you have exalted yourself, as it were, 
for hero-worship, I freely give you back your free- 
dom, that you may be bound with the glorious 
fetters of servitude to our dear Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ. 

“ You have a noble object in view, a grand end 
to attain. That alone is sufficient to sustain your 
courage, to incite your ambition, to employ all 
your energies. You behold before you an exalta- 
tion to a dignity beyond that of kings and princes, 
even that of the priesthood ! What am I, frail girl, 
that I should stand in your way ? 

“ And is there naught for me to do ? Hath not 
Christ left the poor a legacy unto his church ? Are 
there not hungry mouths ever to be fed, and shiver- 
ing forms to be clothed 1 Are not the sick suffer- 


202 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

ing ever pains that may be alleviated ? and are 
not mourners everywhere to be comforted ? I may 
alter the saying of the saint, and work for eter7iit}\ 
by throwmg myself into work. 

“ I shall not forget you, Selwyn. God will not ' 
require that I drop you out of my prayers. Fifty 
years hence, more or less, we shall meet before the 
throne of God, and shall behold each other face to 
face. As we shall regard each other then in that 
purer existence, so will I strive to think of you 
until the angel of death shuts for me the door 
of this life and opens the gate to the other. Let 
your conscience never reprove you for aught 
between you and me. Suffer no fears lest it be not 
well with me. It shall be well. God helping me, 

I will be cheerful and happy. He has taken you 
from me, and taken but his own ; for you were his. 
and not mine. Till we meet in heaven, Selwyn, 
Farewell.” 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity. 


203 


XXV. 

CLE ABNER, after several weeks’ deli- 
cate silence concerning Selvvyn Everett’s 
course of action, which, however, he had 
discoursed upon at length with mamma, said to me : 

“ So, Myrrha, it is all over between you and 
Selwyn. I am sorry — from the bottom of my 
heart I am sorry.” 

“ You have no reason to regret it, uncle.” 

“ But I do, and shall till the last day of my life. 
Why, you two seemed made for each other. I 
prophesied that match when you were little things, 
and so did everybody else.” 

“ Then you as well as everybody proved false 
prophets.” 

I suppose so, the way things look now. V/ho 
would have thought it? For him to turn priest, 
and you, nun ! Wide apart as the poles. I object. 
I do really, decidedly object. I am almost tempted 
to rebel against the church for allowing it. If a 
man cr woman happens to be particularly good or 
sensib e, why, they are too good — too precious to 
marry, and — and — ” 

“ Are doomed ‘ to waste their sweetness on the 
desert air,’ is that it ? ” 

“Yes, exactly; while the tolerably good, the 
indifferent, and the worthless make mischief with 



204 Heart of MyrrJia Lake ; 

domestic affairs generally, and create such tempests, 
and cut up such fearful didoes, as must scare Prince 
Nick himself. I’ve been thinking it over. Good 
people ought to marry, and bad people are the ones 
who should be shut up behind iron grates, and 
made to say prayers whether they will or no. That 
is a way -to bring around the millennium.” 

I smiled. “ Perhaps you had better speak to 
Father Burke upon the subject. I am inclined to 
think the church never took quite that view of it.” 

Don’t trouble the child, Abner. It is wicked 
to discourage her, when she has proved herself 
more brave than all the rest of us. And as to 
mending matters in the church, I expect the 
church that has stood so many hundred years, 
without advice from such poor old people as 
we are, will still get along all right. We must think 
so, and trust her, and have faith in her, although it 
has been so hard for our poor little Myrrha.” 

I could not endure this pity, ill-deserved. O 
uncle and aunt! you are mistaken about me. I 
am not poor little Myrrha. I am your happy, con- 
tented little Myrrha ; always remember that.” 

They regarded me sadly, with mournful eyes. 
We were upon different standpoints ; their plane 
was not the same with mine. 


“I did not know,” writes Selwyn, in a brief last 
letter — “ I did not know fully the heart of Myrrha, 
until your letter of renunciation and God-speed 
revealed it to me. Heaven alone is worthy of it. 


or^ Into the Light of Catholicity, 20 5 


. . . I have said, now I have begun. Verily, this 

is the change of the right hand of the Most High. 

“ You recollect the anecdote of the artist who, 
in looking at the work of a master-hand, said, with 
a kindling of pride : ^ I, too, am a painter ! ’ Thus, 
when I contemplate the grand old church, stately 
and splendid in her material beauty, and still more 
royal and magnificent in her spiritual supremacy ; 
when I observe her monuments of antiquity, her 
towering temples, her sacred shrines; when the 
great names of her saints and martyrs and giant 
minds command my love and reverence, the senti- 
ment of the painter comes up involuntarily, and I 
exclaim, with a glow of enthusiasm and rejoicingly : 
‘ I, too, am a Catholic ! ’ 

“ That I am a Catholic, I owe under God to you, 
Myrrha. Though you were working unwittingly 
for him, let this great work you have wrought still 
further animate you. Thougli we work far apart, 
who had hoped our paths in life should be as one, 
let us work with courage and will, crushing out 
every sorrow and regret, remembering that the 
trials and crosses of this life shall bring for us a far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 

“ Farewell, Myrrha ! I am not so brave and 
strong as you. Though I may remember you in 
the distant years for prayer and praise, I must 
endeavor to forget you now. 

“ May the Almighty God, loving Father of us all, 
have you ever in his holy keeping; comforting 
you in life, sustaining you in death, giving you a 


2o6 The Heart of Myrrha Lake ; 

joyful entrance into the kingdom of rest. Fare- 
well, Myrrha, and again farewell ! 

One further brief note from my journal, and I 
have done. 

Spring has come again with her softness, 

freshness, her tender life. Her delicate flowers 
seem more beautiful than before, and a grace 
enwraps her invisible to my former vision. I love, 
more than heretofore, this beautiful spring. Is it 
because it is under her reign that I am to bid 
adieu to the v/orld, to enter upon a life that shall 
bring me nearer to the source of all life, freshness, 
and beauty ? After a few days, mamma and I are 
to enter the “ Convent of the Sacred Heart ” ; she 
as a boarder, I as a novice. 

I look forward to my future, not with anything 
of tumultuous hope, or aught of my old idle dream- 
ing, but with a spirit of complete submission to 
the divine will. Nay, I can truly say, I thank 
God all things have been with me as they have, 
for all has been guided by the infinitely wise mind 
which directs' for our good, if we but accept all 
with patience. 

I can truly say with A Kempis : 

“ Let me always will or not will the same with 
thee ; and let me not be able to will or not to 
will otherwise than as thou wiliest or wiliest not. 

“ Grant unto me, above all things to be desired, 
that I may rest in thee, and that my heart may be 
at peace in thee. 


or, Into the Light of Catholicity. 207 

“ Thou art the true peace of the heart ; thou art 
its only rest. 

“ In this peace, in the self-same, that is, in thee, 
the one sovereign eternal Good, I will sleep and 
take my rest.” 



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